No Stranger to Hell
by Gone2Far
Summary: Steve discovers there are times when a deadly enemy isn't always visible and there are wars that can't be won with bullets.
1. Too Early O'Clock

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 1

 **This was written in response to an idea put forth by maggiemcgarrett. Thanks mags. It will provide a bit of closure for a character that makes an appearance in a following chapter.**

 **Imaginary Beta is taking a break and this has been betaed by the lovely SPNgrn who obviously doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.**

 **Disclaimer: Money is the root of all evil huh? If that's so, then I am positively saintly. In other words, I don't get paid to write this stuff, yada, yada, yada.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Too Early O'Clock**

They straggled through the door, waved a greeting to the woman behind the counter then seated themselves at the large booth in the corner. Having been here far too many times at all hours of day and night, it is quickly becoming 'their' booth.

Lately, Five-0 members have spent more time here or at H.Q. than their own homes. At 4:50 A.M. on a Saturday, the only other patron in the place is a guy who'd come off his shift as bartender at one of the few taverns on the island that pours until four in the morning. Lolo Lola's is quite the lively establishment and had been the scene of many a late night/early morning scrap requiring HPD's intervention. As a patrolman back-in-the-day, Chin remembered meeting the tough barkeep a few times when responding to public disturbance calls. The man very probably deserves the gigantic plate of steak and eggs he's plowing through.

With Sunrise nearly an hour away and the moon still visible over the sleeping city they settle into the banquette curved around an orange Formica table. The coffee shop's décor is as though time had come to a screeching halt somewhere in the fifties. Some might charitably declare it a manifestation of 'mid-century modern' but to Danny that just means the place is old and out of date.

To be sure, Auntie's Cafe isn't posh or trendy. There are no plumeria blossoms floating in little crystal bowls on the tables nor murals of lush Hawaiian landscapes on the walls and there is nary a candle in sight. It offers none of those things.

What the aged diner _does_ offer is any flavor of Spam you've ever imagined existed. A laminated menu boasts Hot  & Spicy Spam or Bacon flavored Spam, there is Turkey Spam and Teriyaki Spam and even Barbeque or Chorizo Spam and, created especially for those connoisseurs in the great state of Hawaii, Portuguese Sausage Spam. This newest flavor is probably the most radical change to a place that had varied only minimally in décor and cuisine since before most of its customers had been born.

The tallest of the group, despite having eaten pretty much anything considered edible during deployments, (some things barely so), does not consider the canned meat a valid choice for breakfast or any other meal. Steve's distaste for the tinned delight doesn't approach his partner's well-known revulsion of pineapple but he still wouldn't eat it if you paid him.

Strangely, though Danny has aversions to many things: ocean, sun, sand, heat, humidity, and Hawaii in general; Spam he could handle. Steve thought it was probably due to his partner's disturbing affinity for grease and salt, (a craving sort of like those kids have who eat glue or crayons). If something could be fried in oil or butter, preferably after having been dredged in sugar, Danny was on it.

Without even looking at a menu they knew by heart, the group gave their breakfast orders to Mona their usual waitress at this hour. She always had a bright smile for them but it had apparently been a long week for more than just Five-0. This morning the normally perky woman seemed a bit subdued.

After requesting much needed coffee all around, Chin ordered traditional spam and eggs while Kono ordered the turkey version. Danny, not feeling particularly adventurous this early in the A.M., opted for chicken fried steak and eggs. Steve stuck with just the coffee.

"What?" Asked their leader as all three members of his team looked pointedly across the table at him.

"You _know_ what, Steven." said Danny as the cousins nodded their heads in synchronized agreement.

Steve rolled his eyes and chuffed, "Alright, alright." then looked up at Mona to say, "And toast."

"And a couple of fried eggs." said Danny to their server.

"And some of that new Portuguese Spam." piped up Kono; daring to shoot her boss a 'Don't even think of saying no' look.

Steve, now glaring at the last member of the group as though challenging him to add yet another item to his order, saw only a gesture of surrender as Chin raised his hands palms forward.

Pen hovering over notepad Mona dispensed an admonishing look toward the team then addressed 5-0's leader. "Honey," she said (using the endearment with which she addressed pretty much every customer), "Why don't I just bring you a bowl of baked oatmeal, okay? I know you've ordered it before and it's something you like."

As he shot his team a warning look Steve replied, "That would be fine Mona, thank you." He'd acquiesced to ordering another specialty of the house; cereal baked with coconut, pineapple and other things. Mona is right, he does like it but he'd woken up too queasy for breakfast – again. Still, if it would get his team off his back, he'd eat a few bites of the pudding like concoction.

Silently congratulating themselves, the team knew that if their leader hadn't been so exhausted he'd have recognized he'd been set-up. It had been prearranged that Mona would suggest the oatmeal after they'd earned their leader's ire by ordering food he didn't want and most assuredly wouldn't eat. Steve had galloped into the trap like Custer at the Little Big Horn. Chin, who'd hitched a ride with Kono, had called the diner on the way over and asked to speak to the waitress he knew would be on duty. He'd told her of their plan and she'd readily agreed.

Mona had noticed that over the last couple of months, the handsome cop who made her shift much more enjoyable had gone from looking like a guy on the cover of Men's Health to one more likely to appear on the cover of Vogue - all eyes and cheekbones. _If I was his makuahine, I'd make him take care of himself_ , thought the sturdy little waitress. Lately, every time he'd come in, the guy looked even more worn than the time before.

While waiting for their food, the team discussed the reason for being here rather than home trying to sleep-in for a few extra minutes. A six A.M. meeting, its purpose to coordinate today's op with HPD, is to take place at Five-0 headquarters to make use of the sophisticated tools not yet in the budget for Honolulu PD. Chin would tap away at the magic table and whatever map, photo, chart or graph required would pop up on the big screens. After several minutes spent discussing what needed to be set-up before the meeting began, the discussion trailed off into exhausted silence.

Already worn to the bone after pulling several all-nighters and double shifts in a row, they'd caught this high-priority case. Having left work only four hours ago to go home and catch a few winks, they are now back at it again. Hopefully, this latest round of sleep deprivation would result in the apprehension of a pedophile who'd been stalking kids at playgrounds and schools all over Oahu and was suspected in the disappearance of a child two weeks ago. HPD hadn't yet apprehended him and the island's population was growing ever more spooked. Five-0 has been declared lead in the investigation when Denning sicced his special task force on it.

"So," began Danny, never one to allow silence for longer than a minute at most, "You think we'll get any results from what we put out there?"

While stirring cream into the dark liquid in his stoneware mug, Steve answered, "It's the best shot we have at drawing him out. If it doesn't work we'll have to start rounding up every sex-offender on the island and see what an hour in a shark cage can do."

"Maybe we should use your favorite method and just shoot them then hope they'll confess before they bleed out." supplied Danny; possibly more than half serious in this instance.

"There's that." agreed Steve

It had belatedly dawned on the SEAL that he'd been set-up; tricked into ordering the oatmeal despite his lack of appetite and ongoing queasiness.

"You look like shit by the way." added the blonde who'd gotten a good look at his partner's frowning face as the new light of day began to glow through the diner's large windows. Steve's pallor and darkly shadowed eyes were much more apparent when viewed in sunlight.

"Thanks." said Steve over the rim of his cup as he sourly regarded his second-in-command. He managed to ignore his partner's early morning churlishness; knowing it was only Danny being Danny.

Not just his partner but his entire team had been on him relentlessly since he'd returned to duty. At least Lou isn't here to add to the chorus. The big man is on his way back on a Five AM commuter flight from Molokai where he'd gone to check into another possible sighting of the suspect. He'd be catching up to them at H.Q.

He knows he looks like shit. All he has to do is look in the mirror. Perhaps, at this point, he should be glad they couldn't see the huge bruise over his hipbone and the ones on the fronts of both knees; evidence of a successful but violent takedown the day before. There were other bruises as well but he couldn't even remember how or when he'd acquired them. They'd seemed to just magically appear over the last week or so.

He blinked tiredly and then gave a small reassuring smile to Kono who was apparently having a hard time with their subterfuge. For the last few minutes, she'd been busily tearing the edges of her paper placemat into little pieces; a sign of unease.

Even though he realized it was done out of caring, it still annoyed the crap out of him that his team continued to watch him like hyper-vigilant hawks. Not wanting to admit it to anyone but himself, the exhaustion and queasiness _is_ beginning to worry him just a bit as well. Until the last couple of weeks he'd felt relatively fine after having been cleared to return to work by at least three doctors. They still didn't know exactly what drugs he'd been given by that bitch who'd worked for Wo Fat but the toxins had cleared from his system. Four days after the incident he'd not had any further hallucinations and most of the pain was gone after a week. It had been pretty hairy for a while. As memories of being that bastard's prisoner began to besiege him once again, he gave himself a mental shake. This was no time to dwell on it; there is work to be done.

…

Danny surreptitiously surveyed his partner as they waited for their food. The man looks like ten miles of bad road. This morning a dark bruise was visible on his temple; the result of yesterday's flying tackle. Though Steve had eventually gotten his man, there'd been a three-block chase before the suspect had been taken down. In the past, their fleet of foot leader would have had him by the end of the first block.

The blonde sighed. Rationalizing his partner's lack of usual speed with the thought that maybe he was just tired, _Hell, we're all zombies at this point,_ there is still a nagging feeling that something isn't right.

After that final run-in with Wo Fat, the SEAL had returned to duty sporting a few newly acquired scars. He'd also gone back to the angular muscularity he'd exhibited when he'd first come home to Hawaii after his dad had been killed. Over the last couple of years those sharp edges of both temperament and body had been smoothed. Though no less formidable, he'd lost some of the unyielding wariness of demeanor; as well as some of the angularity to arrive at a healthy sleekness. The guy who sat across the table from his second-in-command, at this moment, looked nowhere near healthy.

Even before Five-0's latest round of frantic activity, deeply shadowed and bloodshot eyes had greeted the detective every morning for the last week when he'd come to pick his partner up for work. Danny suspected Steve hadn't been getting much sleep since Catherine had left for the supposedly final time. Depression can have disastrous effect on one's appearance but this could be something more than just depression.

For now, the detective's overly tired brain let it go; there's nothing that can be done. He knew his stubborn partner won't let up until this case in which Five-0, as well as every cop on the island, are involved in is put to rest. None of them would.

Breakfast arrived and everyone dug in. There isn't time to dawdle. They needed to get to the office to organize equipment and materials before the others showed up. They could have put it together before leaving H.Q. at one A.M. but brains were so fogged by fatigue there was no guarantee it would have been done correctly. The meeting is to go over the layout of the fairgrounds, assign locations where teams and individuals are to be posted, and go over the strategy to capture the suspect.

Sunlight had begun to slant over the building across the street and spokes of gold invaded the diner as they paid their bills and smiled their goodbyes to Mona. If things went as planned, for most of them, this day would provide an ending to an arduous journey. For others, it would be only the beginning of one.

…

Bob opened the kitchen blinds and squinted at the early morning light. He scratched his belly and yawned. It was time to get ready for the big event.

He'd found the ruse used to lure cops away from the real target distasteful but hey, whatever worked. He still wasn't so sure his boss didn't get off on it though. Joining in the actual process wasn't something the guy would normally do but he'd actually assigned himself as one of the three men dressed identically and driving identical vehicles with identical fake plates. When they'd show up at their individual assigned locations outside school, parks, or wherever to lurk suspiciously for a bit before driving off, the guy seemed to get a kick out of it. The boss had been the one who'd approached the little girls and scared the crap out of them. When they'd all met up later that day to discuss results; he'd recounted the incident with absolute glee.

"Ughh", he muttered at the memory as he scooped ground coffee into the paper filter and set it into the coffee maker. He filled its water reservoir then clicked the switch to start the brewing process while thinking, _After this, I won't have to make my own coffee anymore. I can just go to the coffee shop around the corner and order whatever the hell I want. Six bucks for a cup of flavored coffee with whipped cream on it is expensive but totally worth it._

Waiting only long enough for it to fill enough for half a cup, he pulled the glass pot away and poured himself some nearly black sludge. After drowning the stuff with artificial creamer he wandered into the living room to turn on the television.

Sure enough, there was one of those blithering newscasters on the local channel giving a report as a police artist's sketch popped up on the screen.

As he stood sipping his hazelnut flavored ink he thought it is was wonder they'd managed to find a guy who looked so much like the two of them. With dark hair, a beard, baseball cap and sunglasses, they would be indistinguishable from one another from even a short distance.

He yawned and scratched again as he wandered back to the kitchen to set the empty cup onto the counter. Time to get a shower and get ready for work.

…..

"See you guys there." called Steve toward the cousins as he stood squinting into the sun before getting into the passenger side of the Camaro. Danny stood another moment on the sidewalk, mouth open in surprise. Steve hadn't even tried to wrestle him for the keys. Now he knew for sure that something was way off with his friend.

"Hey" he said as he eased himself into the driver's seat and adjusted it forward, "You okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine." answered his partner in a tired and slightly raspy voice.

"How can you be fine if you're letting me drive my car?" demanded the blonde

"Just figured it would be safer for all concerned." said Steve with a small smile

"How so? I mean not that it isn't always safer for everyone on the island when you're not piloting a vehicle through the streets of Honolulu. And I'm using the word 'pilot' in a literal sense mind you as all four wheels of this car aren't usually on the ground when you drive."

"Well, considering that I've gotten maybe a total of six hours sleep in the last three days, it might be better to let someone else, anyone else, drive so that we all have a better chance of making it to our destinations this morning."

Danny was now really concerned. That Steve had admitted he was too tired to drive and may actually be a danger if doing so was tantamount to Donald Trump finally admitting it looked like a squirrel had died on his head.

Without starting the engine he turned to study Steve's face in the bright morning light.

"Daniel, if we want to get to our destination, you know you actually have to start the engine." grumped Steve, not willing to endure his partner's too obvious assessment.

"What's really wrong with you?" asked the blonde bluntly. He probably wouldn't get an answer but he'd give it a shot.

"Nothing, I'm just tired is all."

"Bullshit."

"Look, just start the damned car and get us to H.Q. The rest of the guys will be there in half an hour. I want to get everything ready before then."

"I asked you . . . "

"Just drive dammit!" ordered Steve in his commander voice.

Mumbling to himself, Danny gave up the interrogation and turned the key which sent the powerful engine into life. He pulled into the steadily increasing early morning commuter traffic and steered them toward the Palace.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **So, something's up with our hero. Any guesses?**

 **If you feel the need to take me to task for something, feel free to express your opinions. Unlike another character I sometimes write about - I don't bite**

 **Would love to hear what you think of this first chapter.**

 **Next chapter up on Sunday.**


	2. Clouds

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 2

 **Here's a bit more action. Thank you all so much for the wonderful response to the first chapter.**

 **SPNgrn betaed the original version of this chapter but of course I had to mess with it afterward so all mistakes are those of her neurotic and very OCD predecessor Imaginary Beta.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't get paid for this but love the feeling of legitimacy writing provides for staying up all night, drinking coffee, and eating cookies.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Clouds

It's only a few minutes to six and the meeting is about to begin. As they waited for the last of the group to arrive, he objectively analyzed what they knew so far. One thought in particular went round and round in his head. Despite the abduction of that first child, it seemed strange there'd been so many close calls since and, as yet, no additional kid had even been touched. If the guy was smart enough to snatch one, why not others? According to what he'd learned from both HPD's profiler and one from another agency, the suspect, with so much practice, should be improving his skills of predation.

Yesterday, when he'd discussed this with his team it had set Danny off on a major rant about what he wanted to do to the guy if they caught him. He knew his friend was wound pretty tight by it all but had admonished him that it's counterproductive to lose focus.

Steve rubbed bloodshot eyes and once again went over his mental checklist to be sure he wasn't missing anything he needed to cover. Even with the gravity of the situation, keeping his own mind focused wasn't as easy as it had been even a few days ago. Concentrating when so tired, ( _Scratch that - when so fucking exhausted),_ is becoming more difficult as the hours pass. Despite what others think, his ego isn't that big. If he couldn't keep his shit together he'd have to stand down. He knows that if he's not fit to lead, someone could get hurt.

He watched the others file in. There were chairs set-up for most of them but a few would have to stand. Despite the early hour and across the board fatigue, there is a buzz of energy in the room.

Steve knows that Danny in particular is keen to catch the stalker of the innocent. Any potential for evil within a thousand miles of his daughter prompts great unease in his second-in-command. It doesn't matter that her mother, Stan's driver or Danny himself, is always there to drop her off or pick her up from school; the freak is on the same island as Gracie. Her father isn't going to relax until the guy is under lock and key - or dead.

Detective Sergeant Daniel Williams is normally one for following procedure but Steve would bet his friend is willing to make an exception in this case. If Danny is the one to apprehend the stalker there'd better be someone along with him to save the guy's sorry ass.

And damned if their suspect didn't seem to be all over the island! With so many sightings and near misses many of those here, Steve included, feel it's only a matter of time before another child is taken. Just yesterday the stalker had made an appearance near an elementary school; this time leering suggestively at a couple of eight-year-old girls who ran away screaming when he opened the door of his van and took a step toward them. Even if he isn't the one responsible for the disappearance of the boy in Makaha, his malevolence seems to be escalating.

HPD and the Governor's office had been flooded with calls from those demanding capture of the prime suspect in the disappearance of a ten-year-old on the leeward side of the island. The boy had gone missing over two weeks ago and, despite a thorough search by local and state authorities, is nowhere to be found.

There is no proof that he'd been taken by the same guy but the kids as well as their parents had been terrorized by the incident. Both boys and girls are being targeted; their ages varying from toddler to teen. No child is safe.

The media is afire with speculation and fear floats over the island of Oahu like a poisonous cloud.

Attempting to gain whatever edge they could, Five-0's commander had reached out to a former member of the team. Though HPD's own profiler had given a thorough analysis of the suspect, he'd had Danny contact Lori Weston who'd returned to work as a profiler for Homeland Security. They hadn't seen her since she'd left but had kept in touch via occasional emails and phone calls.

He'd initially hesitated to contact her because, even now, he still isn't quite sure if Lori hadn't harbored feelings for him other than friendship. There'd been a bit of flirtation on both their parts. He shouldn't even have done it but she is an attractive woman and he's only human. Nothing would ever have come of it because he loved Cath . . .

Shaking himself from his thoughts he glanced at his watch. A couple more minutes and they could get on with what they came here to do.

…..

For the past several weeks it had been known there is to be a youth oriented event at the Punchbowl Fairgrounds this weekend. Many in the community had wanted it cancelled and law enforcement certainly wasn't opposed to the idea but its organizers had prevailed; saying too much time and money had already been spent to make it happen.

If they couldn't stop it, Five-0 decided to use it to their advantage. The local radio and television stations were directed to heavily tout the event. Despite the fears of the populace, it was predicted there would be a large turnout; the place would be awash with children. According to what they'd learned from both profilers, the predator wouldn't be able to resist showing up. The Annual Honolulu Children's Fair would go on as scheduled with added police presence. Actually, its attendees would be nearly outnumbered by cops.

When Steve had laid out the plan, Danny had gone ballistic, loudly exclaiming, "What! Are you out of your freakin' mind! We'll be using be using children for bait!"

Five-0's leader had calmly replied, "They'll be safe Danny. We're going to make sure of it. The guy won't be able to fart without someone noticing."

"I don't care if there are billowing clouds of methane, you idiot! It's not what we're worried about! What if he actually makes a grab for someone's kid huh?!" His hands doing nearly as much talking as his mouth, Danny waved them about for emphasis then clutched at the air in illustration.

"We're not going to let anything happen to a child. They'll be safer there than if they're in their own homes." countered Five-0's leader in a still quiet but now annoyed tone.

He'd tried to calm his volatile partner by explaining it's their best shot for getting the guy off the street. If things go on as they are, someone is going to be harmed for sure; if not by the predator then by some paranoid civilian taking a potshot at a stranger who merely looks suspicious.

The Jersey detective still wasn't convinced it would be the safest strategy but he knew that Steve would do anything and everything in his power to keep the children from harm. That bolstering thought would have to do for now.

….

Clearing his throat, Steve announced the start of the meeting.

The group quickly quieted and directed their complete attention to Lt. Commander McGarrett in full-on SEAL mode.

Steve quickly and efficiently selected teams and assigned them various locations then outlined what is expected of them. There are those in the department who still haven't gotten over what McGarrett had done to escape custody after being wrongly accused of Pat Jameson's murder, but all are ready to unquestioningly follow his orders. All are determined to stop the man stalking the island's children.

Sergeant Lukela, seeing to it that a morning boost is provided to all, directed one of the rookies to hand out coffee at the door. Judging by the weary appearance of pretty much everyone here, caffeine is sorely needed. Disposable cups in hand, they stand, lean, or sit as Steve lays out the op to catch a predator. The next forty-five minutes are spent going over the plan and its back-up, and then the back-up to the back-up plan.

"Everyone clear on what's expected?" asks Steve, looking over the assembly for anyone in need of clarification of plan or assigned duties. When no one responds he orders, "Let's move out."

It's a small army that convoys to the fairgrounds in the early morning hours. By the time the event commences, it will be protected by a large and very determined force.

….

They're all in position. The comlink crackles as each team checks in from their assigned locations. Chin and Kono cover the entrance to the section containing amusement rides, Lou and one of the guys from his former SWAT unit cover the Eastern edge of the food court as three other teams wearing civilian attire cover North, West, and South. Many others patrol the grounds; some in uniform but most in civvies. If they could get the guy to think he'd be okay to make a move if he just avoids the uniforms it would be a grave mistake on his part.

Steve and Danny mingle in the crowd outside the fence of the petting zoo set-up in a large covered enclosure; its tin roof beginning to pop and creak as metal expands in the growing heat of day. The uncomfortable increase in temperature exacerbates the increasingly strong odor of livestock corralled under the corrugated canopy. As Danny observes the interactions between human and animal species he wrinkles his nose and shudders at the thought of the germs those grubby little hands are busy acquiring.

Inside the fence is chaos. Among oinks, bleats, and quacks, are squeals of delight or occasional terror as children come face to face with creatures heretofore experienced only on TV, in books, or online. Among the assortment are rabbits, goats, pigs, ducks, a huge tortoise, and even a couple of wallabies and axis deer that are native to the island. Docile creatures mill about the enclosure with fifty or sixty kids and several grownups who are presumably parents. As directed, all adults are questioned and their ID's checked at the zoo's entrance to ascertain if they are legitimately here to accompany children within the corral. Every angle and contingency had been addressed to keep the children safe.

….

The hours drag on with nothing much happening other than a small incident in which an overly enthusiastic five-year-old is bitten by an annoyed rabbit. As the bored Jersey detective glances across the enclosure he sees that his partner is still focused like a border collie waiting for one of the flock to make a break for it. Once again his mind drifts to his friend's current status of 'freedom'. It isn't a subject he dwells on as a regular thing but Steve, after being dumped, doesn't seem to be dealing with it well . . . or at all. He'd refused to discuss it but, apparently, Catherine had lied to him, (as well as to his best friend), about sticking around this time.

Danny didn't know if Steve had even gotten to the planned marriage proposal. In what had probably been a gesture of _'This is how many fucks I give'_ , the little box with the ring in it was thrown into the kitchen junk drawer and had remained there since. Danny discovered it when looking for a can opener in McGarrett's kitchen the day he and Gracie had taken it upon themselves to make dinner there. Even the teenager had noticed her uncle's increasingly spare appearance and had become worried. Knowing Steve would never refuse what his beloved niece had prepared for him it had become Gracie's ploy to get him to eat more.

It isn't even nine A.M. yet and the Jersey detective could feel the air growing warm and thick as people buzzed about. Tugging his shirt away from where it had stuck to his lower back, the detective's eyes travel once again over the people and animals around him. Still nothing.

This lump of volcanic rock is home for him now but he still occasionally misses the place where he'd been born and raised. If it wasn't for Gracie, (and now his Five-0 family), he'd be off this island so fast they'd never even see the jet's contrail. He knew he could be in Newark freezing his ass off right now but still, it just isn't right. There shouldn't be need to coat oneself in talcum powder like the breading on a fried shrimp just so clothing won't be plastered to skin ten minutes after getting dressed.

 _How do people survive this freakin' weather?_ he thinks as he pulls his collar away from the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

Actually, with Rambo as his partner, it's more a wonder that he's survived at all. Someday, the guy's lack of concern for his own personal safety is gonna get him into a situation he won't be able to get out of. Then, of course, one Detective Daniel Williams will be obliged to jump in to help despite the fact that odds of surviving a situation even SuperSEAL can't fight his way out of are pretty much nil.

Though stakeouts are not new to him he sighs in annoyance . . . and boredom . . . while wondering how an ADD adrenaline junkie like McGarrett can hold still enough for this stuff. Maybe it's SEAL training? It couldn't possibly be part of his natural makeup because the guy struggles to sit still long enough to complete a friggin' shopping list.

Right now he feels he hates Steve as much as he hates Hawaii as he wipes sweat off his brow with the back of an arm.

 _At least there's something to look forward to after catching this scumbag,_ he thinks. When Steve had asked him to contact Lori Weston he'd been happy to do so. He missed having her around. Rather than the alternately much too laid-back then much too hyped-up energy of his team she'd seemed a bit more measured . . . and sane. Steve is his best friend but the guy drives him fucking nuts. How could anyone be so relaxed' when it comes to filling out paperwork yet so focused and adrenaline charged at other times? It still bugs the crap out of him.

In any case, it will be nice to see the comely profiler once again. Though it had been Denning's decision to get rid of his watchdog, Danny had always felt there was something else behind her leaving. He'd suspected that perhaps Lori had more than friendly feelings for Steve but the SEAL had appeared to be totally oblivious to her charms - Catherine was still part of his world back then.

Anyway, no matter the shadings of Lori's departure, everyone will be happy to see her. She couldn't get away from her own job early enough to be part of this op but she'd taken a few days off to visit. Hopefully, the whole thing will be over and the suspect in custody by the time she arrives so she can enjoy her time in the sun. It'll be a nice reunion.

Jerked from his musings by a yell of, "HALT! POLICE!" Danny looks toward the sound but can't see who'd shouted the order. On the other side of a tangled knot of children and animals, Steve is also reacting to the alarm and freezes while his eyes search the area before propelling himself toward the back entrance.

"Suspect spotted North side of food court!" yells someone into his mic, probably one of Duke's men.

"Tall white male wearing navy jacket and red cap fleeing on foot toward building C!" a declaration in Lou's unmistakable voice, huffing and puffing as he runs.

"In pursuit! Heading North!" a familiar voice declares followed by a small grunt of effort as Steve vaults over a fence.

Mothers scream and clutch their children to them as a horde of law enforcement, only some of them in uniform but all with guns drawn, thunder toward the Northern boundary of the fairgrounds. The com link is alive with all teams reporting their status in the pursuit. Danny is at a dead run to catch up as in the distance a guy in a baseball cap, Steve hot on his heels, disappears behind the pavilion where the dog show is to be held.

Skidding on straw covered ground, he rounds the corner of the big tent just as Steve tackles the fleeing man. Both pursued and pursuer hit the ground hard. Even from yards away, the detective hears both men grunt at the impact that forces air from their lungs. The suspect is half a second faster in popping back up and before Danny can prevent it, knocks Steve back to the ground by delivering a kick to his kidneys. The SEAL goes down hard.

Barely close enough, Danny launches himself at the man poised to resume his flight. Though he'd caught him around the ankles he doesn't bring him all the way down. The guy manages to twist in his grasp and turns to launch a flurry of blows. Receiving a fist to the side of the head that makes him see stars, the tackler loosens his hold.

Tugging out of the cop's grasp the guy turns once again to flee. The dogged detective pausing only for a second to shake the fuzziness out of his head rises to take up the chase.

Like a bullet, the guy streaks past several HPD officers who aren't close enough to stop him and can't shoot because the area is too crowded with fairgoers. He almost makes it out the exit when he's bowled over by a rocket of bone and muscle.

Steve had somehow managed to recover enough to once again take up the pursuit and has caught up to their elusive suspect. Clambering onto the top of the ticket booth next to the gate, he'd launched himself off its roof.

Though his world explodes in pain at the impact of his landing, the SEAL holds onto the runner. Blows rain down on him as they lay tangled in battle on the dusty ground; the captive yelling, "Let me go you motherfucker!"

Despite his best efforts, the SEAL's hold slackens just enough for his captive to extricate one leg and kick out. What is left of his breath leaves Steve's lungs at the impact of a boot to his ribs. The guy slips out of his weakening grasp and jumps to his feet.

The frantic suspect had just turned to run when another man plows into him and knocks him flat. This time, there's no getting up. A knee is immediately planted in the middle of his back and his hands are roughly jerked behind him, nearly wrenching his arms out of their sockets.

"You're not going anywhere! Stop struggling or I'll friggin' shoot you in the back of your head!" declared a voice with an accent that definitely wasn't local. The suspect has no fight left in him. He does as ordered.

Ignoring the strong desire to follow through on his threat, Danny secures his cuffs around the now inert man's thick wrists; possibly a bit tighter than need be. "Take care of this scum!" he growls to the two HPD officers who'd arrived mere seconds after the takedown.

The blonde turns immediately to see what's happened to his strangely silent partner. He'd never heard the usual, "Book 'em Danno."

Steve has remained on the ground, one hand pressed to his lower back and the other at his ribs on the same side. "Ughh" groans the SEAL who changes position to curl forward.

"Babe, you okay?"

Steve lay on his side; eyes squeezed shut, knees drawn nearly to chest, and breath coming in short gasps. Ignoring Danny's pleas for a response he stays that way for another few moments willing the pain to go away.

"Steven?!" His alarmed partner placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

After another half minute of panting, Steve blinked his eyes open and took a deeper breath to exclaim, "Shit that hurt!"

"Of course it did you idiot! Impersonating of a ton of bricks has its consequences." said Danny shaking his head in exasperation but relieved that Steve is once again able to communicate. "Just stay there until you get checked out."

"I'm good. Help me up." grunted the stubborn SEAL.

"Uh, uh." responded his partner, "Just stay down for a couple minutes. I'm sure medics are on the way. They need to check you over before you start moving around. I'm almost positive I heard bones breaking when you landed."

"Nah, I'm good." lied Steve, "Nothing broke. Just give me a hand."

"Steve, they'll be here in another second. EMT's man the first-aid tent near the front entrance. They've even got an ambulance on standby. Just stay the hell down!"

Steve only shook his head and began to try to stand by himself. Knowing it would be no use to argue further, Danny bit back his objections and extended a hand to help pull the stubborn man into a sitting position.

Steve sat swaying for a brief moment blinking away the black spots that drifted across his vision. Squinting up at his friend he said, "Come on D. Help me up. We have to get back to H.Q. and . . ."

Judging by the none too focused eyes that looked up at him he knows his friend is in no shape to try regaining his feet. Danny barked out, "Honestly Steven, if you don't let the paramedics check you over, I'm gonna kneecap you then let them haul you away in the bus."

"Just try it." responded the stubborn SEAL. Then, unassisted, he made it to hands and knees. His plan is to pause there for a moment before attempting to stand upright. Unfortunately, his body had other plans. The change in position completed the connection between being merely queasy and actually tossing his cookies. This morning's oatmeal made a distressing reappearance as he retched onto the straw covered ground while his partner looked on in dismay. Then, as the heaving stopped and he sat back trying to regain his breath, blood began to run down his upper lip in a fast flowing rivulet. It dripped off his chin to land in bright splats on the front of his T-shirt.

The bus it is.

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 **Next chapter up on Thursday. Reviews on this one would be nice.**


	3. The Piñata Theory

Chapter 3

 **Not much action in this one but there** _ **is**_ **a lot of worry.**

 **So very much appreciate the reviews you lovely readers have posted. After I've submitted a new chapter they help to keep me from hiding under the bed like not-so-ninja cat when garbage trucks are outside. It's also hard to curl into the fetal position in such a cramped space.**

 **This chapter was betaed by the very patient and long-suffering SPNgrn. Many years from now, after she's gone to the big chocolate shop in the sky, she will no doubt be canononized.**

 **Disclaimer: It's not my fault, honest. In any case, I still don't get paid for this.**

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The Piñata Theory

Using lights but no siren, the ambulance rolls along baking asphalt toward Queens Medical Center. Its passenger, lying quietly with eyes closed, holds gauze to his nose and shivers despite the heat.

His partner sits on the seat parallel to the wheeled cot and scowls in concern as he watches the EMT take readings and note them on forms fastened to a clipboard.

The oft used template; insistence that he's 'good' and in no need of medical attention, (much less a ride in an ambulance), had not been employed. But what worries Danny most is that his friend is so passive. Without bothering to open his eyes Steve is compliantly responding to the standard questions: 'Does anything hurt? Can you feel this? Can you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?'

 _Who's stolen Rambo and replaced him with this weirdly cooperative lookalike?_ wonders Five-0's second in command as he observes the interaction between Steve and the EMT.

Though this new willingness has made it much easier than the usual struggle to get Steve to agree to medical care, it's made Danny very much uneasy. His friend's face had already been etched with fatigue before they'd even gotten to the fairgrounds and now it's paper pale and sheened with sweat.

Too tired to put up a fight, Steve goes along with whatever is asked. He doesn't have the energy left to put up any resistance. The kids are safe, the suspect has been caught and everyone can take a break for a few minutes. Though he's still queasy, he's thankful that dry heaves like a gun clicking on empty have finally ceased.

Allan Taamu, the EMT in attendance, is also thankful that no upchucking appears imminent. As a first responder he'd seen blood and gore aplenty, up to and including missing body parts, but he is sorely tried when it comes to patients puking – on him or anything else. At times it would threaten to trigger his own round of retching but, so far, he's managed not to go there. His coworkers have been relentless in their teasing about 'sympathy puking'. For a medical professional the affliction is mortifying.

Taamu notes the readouts and frowns. His patient's pulse is a bit fast for someone just lying quietly on a gurney; it's slightly irregular as well.

Detective Williams, who'd also been in his care a time or two over the last couple of years, sits at his elbow, closely observing. The situation isn't unusual. If it was McGarrett being transported Williams accompanied him and if it was Williams then the reverse was true. Five-0 is ohana and its team members watch over each other. No one ever goes to the hospital alone.

"That nosebleed letting up any?" asks the medic.

"Not yet." replies his patient who'd opened his eyes to blink tiredly from behind the wad of gauze he held to his face.

Taking the bundle of absorbent material that had nearly soaked through, Taamu quickly pressed another into Steve's hand. The bleeding should have stopped by now.

"Thanks." rasped McGarrett as he quickly applied the new compress.

He didn't think he'd been hit in the face; at least he didn't remember it happening. The nosebleed had begun just after he'd finished ralphing and now, even with his head slightly elevated, he'd been swallowing blood running down the back of his throat for the past several minutes. It's making him queasy all over again.

"Uhh, Allan?" asked McGarrett, his voice muffled by the padding, "I'd better turn on my side or I'm gonna puke in your bus. I know it's your worst nightmare. Don't wanna do that to you."

 _Jeeze! Does everyone know?!_ thought Taamu as he hurriedly loosened the straps securing his patient to the gurney. After lowering the cot flat, with Williams' assistance he helped his nauseous patient roll onto his side.

The detective worriedly looked on as the EMT refastened the straps then quickly grabbed an EmBag from the rack behind him, (just in case).

"Normally I'd have you lean forward and pinch the sides of your nose together but that's not a good idea right now. You don't seem too steady yet and I don't want you pitching off the gurney." said Taamu

"I thought my nose had stopped bleeding for good this morning but I guess not." volunteered Steve without thinking of the ramifications of making such a statement in front of his much too vigilant partner.

"What do you mean this morning?" asked Danny; his tone one of suspicion.

"Umm . . . just a little when I was in the shower. It was nothing." mumbled Steve.

"Yeah, uh huh." said the detective, worry lines on his forehead deepening as the needle on his McGarrett Bullshit Detection Meter began to inch up.

"Commander, how often do you get these nosebleeds?" asked the medic as he pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and reached for the clipboard next to him.

 _Crap! I've probably busted myself!_ thinks Steve as two sets of eyes peer expectantly down at him. Without answering the question he exclaims, "Adrenaline's an amazing thing huh? That bastard must have popped me in the face, but with all the commotion I didn't notice."

Taamu makes a note on the form and barely manages not to roll his eyes. He knows he's not going to get a straight answer. He's treated the guy before and is very well aware his patient isn't above deception if he thinks it will shorten any time spent under medical care.

"Steven, I know you think you've cleverly managed to distract us but unlike you we don't have the attention span of a puppy that's lapped up a gallon of Red Bull. You didn't answer the question."

Taamu smiles at what is probably the start of one of the pair's infamous squabbles but checking McGarrett's pulse once again, the EMT's face sobered.

Taamu's tightened expression didn't escape the detective who murmured, "I didn't see him get hit in the face."

Before they could press further for a truthful answer, the ambulance was backing up to the doors of the ER entrance.

They'd arrived at the hospital in decent time especially since there'd been no need for sirens. _At least no one was actually gushing blood or threatening to stop breathing on this trip_ , thought Danny as he relaxed just the tiniest bit because he knew his partner would be in competent hands here at Queens.

Steve was offloaded and wheeled through the Emergency Room doors while his friend took care of the paperwork. Since he'd been part of Five-0, the Jersey detective had performed this task so many times he knew Steve's, Chin's, and Kono's info by heart: blood type, allergies, last tetanus shot, etc. Lou had, so far, managed to stay out of harm's way but being part of McGarrett World, it probably wouldn't be long before his stats would be memorized as well. Danny didn't know how it had come about but long ago he'd somehow been nominated Five-0's mother hen. He thanked God that at least he was only _Steve's_ medical proxy. Making decisions for a guy who'd been wheeled into the ER unconscious on more than one occasion could be harrowing and a job not to be wished upon his worst enemy.

Completing the forms in record time he signed them with a flourish, handed them back to the admissions nurse, and nodded for her to buzz him through the emergency room doors. They swung open with the familiar nerve-grating sound and he strode down the wide corridor off of which branched individual glass-fronted emergency bays. He was almost to the end of it when he heard Steve's voice coming from behind the curtain of a cubicle on the right.

"No, I'm not staying so I don't have to take off my clothes! Just give me a couple aspirin and let me get outta here!"

"Commander, for the third time, you're not going anywhere!" responded an exasperated female voice, "You _know_ you have to stay until the doctor has done his examination . . . but first, get out of your clothes!"

"Steven", greeted Danny as he parted the privacy curtains, "Just do like the lady says. Be a good boy and strip."

The harried nurse had already taken her reluctant patient's blood pressure, established a line, and clamped a pulse-ox thingamabob on his finger but was making no headway in getting him to cooperate with anything more. The precautionary bag of saline hung from a hook above the bed, its tubing attached to a needle in the back of Steve's left hand as he lay glaring at her in an obvious standoff.

Danny paused to silently survey his partner, still pale as a fish belly, and scowling back at him from a semi upright position on the narrow bed. Dark red splotches stained the white cotton T-shirt he'd refused to shed and he's still wearing dirt smudged cargoes; bits of straw clinging here and there. At least they'd gotten him to remove his boots . . . or most likely had done it for him.

"Danny, I don't need to be here and you know it!" groused Five-0's leader, his eyes nearly the only part of his face visible behind the giant compress he held to his nose.

"Ahh" exclaimed a not very amused detective as he approached the side of the bed. "I was wondering how long it would take you to get there. You've reached it I see."

"Get where? Reached what?" demanded Steve as he pulled the gauze away to check if the bleeding had stopped. An immediate trickle of red answered the question.

"You know. Get to the part where you become an uncooperative asshole." snorted the blonde, "Just lose the ensemble Steven so you can get this over with. I wanna get home sometime before sunup."

"No one's keebing _you_ here." snapped Steve, the angry tone mitigated by the lack of ability to pronounce the word correctly because he couldn't breathe through the thick pad he held to his nose.

The blonde scrubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath, "Just cooperate wouldja? You know you're not getting out of here until the doctor releases you."

"Danny . . ." began McGarrett before he was cut off.

"I know shyness isn't your issue 'cause you've been naked in public more times than a friggin' pole dancer." interrupted the annoyed detective with an exaggerated description of his friend's OCD habit of changing his shirt in the middle of his office. Danny had always thought that for someone who surely must have been accustomed to situations in which a bath or change of clothing may not have been an option for several days; the guy is as finicky as a cat.

Everyone on the team had seen their boss shirtless more than once when he'd returned from the field sweaty or grimy and had switched out a grubby T-shirt for one of the clean ones from his stash in his desk drawer. On occasion they'd seen even more bare skin when Steve had gone into the water to retrieve evidence or even a suspect who'd been foolish enough to try to swim his way to freedom.

"You are also very much aware of the S.O.P. in this situation. The one with which I have become much too familiar since having been dragooned into being your partner. It goes like this: You wait to be examined by an actual doctor with an actual medical degree who then can declare you fit to leave the hospital . . . or not

"Danny . . ."

"Just shut up already! This isn't the supermarket, Steven; there is no self-checkout here! You stay put until the doc O.K.'s your release. I doubt he's even seen you yet, has he?"

Though it was only the middle of the week and wasn't yet sundown, the ER appeared to be at capacity. The detective knew that arrival by ambulance usually gives one a bit of priority but with only dizziness and a nosebleed; Five-0's leader wasn't the highest one on the triage totem pole. It would probably be a while before he'd be seen by a doctor.

Choosing to ignore his partner's admonition Steve pulled away the gauze to say, "I've got to get out of here because there's work to do. We have the lead in this case and the suspect needs to be interrogated about that boy up in Makaha." Blood dripped onto his T-shirt before he'd finished the sentence. "Shit!" he muttered as he swiped at it futilely with the gauze.

"That can all be handled without you being there." reminded Danny, his usual scant supply of patience now wearing very, very, thin. "You do know that you've got extremely competent people working for you . . . right?"

"Well yeah, of course," said McGarrett, still blotting at his nose. "But do you even know whose custody he's in right now? Ours or HPD's? Maybe they've already started an interrogation. We need to be there." said Steve sitting up in preparation to swinging his legs off the bed before the exasperated nurse pushed him back down. It didn't take as much effort as one would think.

"Well, for his safety, just be glad it isn't me doing the interrogating." supplied the detective as he noted the ease with which a woman weighing not much more than a hundred-pounds handled someone nearly twice her size. "It's being handled just fine SuperSEAL. Kono called to say they've stashed him in the blue room to let him marinate for a while. You don't need to be there right now so just chill."

Steve looked as though he was going to launch another protest but apparently thinking the better of it, sighed tiredly then leaned back on the narrow bed. All fight seemed to have suddenly left him.

"Just be happy Steven. Your team is taking care of business. If I wasn't here with you, I'd be letting the bastard know what I think of what he's done, or correction, allegedly done. I wish I had my hands around his neck right now."

"You and a lot of other people." replied Steve as he pulled the gauze away again and sniffed wetly. Blood immediately trailed onto his upper lip so he clamped it back in place. "That only reinforces the fact that I have to get out of here to find out if he was responsible for abducting that boy."

"Kalakaua's on it babe. I'll guarantee she'll get an answer from the motherfucker . . ." began the detective. He was interrupted by someone saying "Knock, knock" before a slight pause and parting of the curtains.

"What motherfucker?" asked the dark-haired woman who entered the exam cubicle, a stethoscope slung around her neck. "I'm Dr. Farina" she smiled. From the slotted holder at the end of the bed she plucked up the forms that had been handed off by the EMT's.

Danny, his face flushing muttered, "Umm, sorry for the language."

Steve, having propped himself up on one elbow said through the gauze, "You know, it's kind of cute when you blush Danny,"

Wiliams shot his partner a glare before backing away from the bed so the doctor and a young guy who'd followed her in wearing a blue smock and carrying an assortment of medical gear could have access to their patient.

"I see that you were involved in an altercation of some sort?" asked Dr. Farina who gestured toward the bloody compress and the bruise on the SEAL's forehead.

Before Steve could reply, Danny spoke up, "Yeah, you could call it an altercation or you could call it an attempt at impersonating a guided missile."

"Pray tell." smiled the doctor as she motioned for Steve to sit up.

He did so with a wince and looked as though he was about to plop back down again. Danny quickly took a step forward to reach out to steady him.

The tech in the smock, whose name tag identified him as T. Colton of Hematology, pulled over a rolling tray from the corner of the room. He unfolded something that looked like a thick paper towel over the tray's surface then laid out various tubes with color-coded stoppers upon it along with the other tools of his trade.

Clarifying his statement, the detective said, "Our fearless friend here, dropped from a roof onto a suspect who was attempting to flee."

The doctor's dark brows rose in surprise but she continued her exam; lifting Steve's T-shirt to place her stethoscope against his back.

"It was only a shed roof not a . . . ", began Steve in his defense

Before he could explain further, the doctor interrupted him with a sentence that wasn't really a question. "You didn't get these bruises just today, did you?"

Danny, puzzled as to what she was referring to, walked around to the other side of the bed so that he could see what she was looking at.

"Shit!" he muttered, then at full volume, "What the hell Steven!"

Several contusions, their colors ranging from yellow to purple to nearly black, littered Steve's back.

"I only had that one on my hip bone and um . . . my knees and maybe a few others. If you're looking at anything else, then . . ." his voice trailed off unsurely.

"You look like someone used you for a friggin' piñata!" exclaimed Danny; worry making him even louder.

"Commander McGarrett, you have quite extensive bruising on your back and I suspect elsewhere as well. You're saying you don't know how it got there?"

"Well, I guess it could have happened a couple days ago. Is it really that bad?"

"Your partner's piñata theory could almost be plausible. Now, please remove the rest of your clothing so that I can see if there's anything else I need to be aware of."

Still grumbling, Steve reluctantly pulled off his shirt with Danny's assistance. Then, with the gauze still pressed to his nose, one-handed, and with a warning glance at his partner he undid his belt.

"Just get over it! Your virtue is safe for chrissakes!" snorted Danny as he pulled at the cuffs of the trousers to help Steve remove them.

"Detective, you can wait out in the hallway if you like." said the doctor looking as though she was trying to suppress a smile. The tech didn't even look up.

"He can stay." sighed Steve as he lay back preparing to shimmy the rest of the way out of his cargoes.

"Doc, we've been together so long he hasn't got anything I haven't already seen." snarked the detective.

Both looked up at the smirking blonde; Steve with a 'what the hell' expression, the doctor with an amused one.

McGarrett began, "Dr. Farina, he's just being a smartass. We're not . . ."

"I know." laughed the medic, "Don't worry. I understand your connection." she said, soothing her patient's annoyance. "You guys are well-known here at Queens. Actually, I'm surprised we haven't run into one another before now."

Steve looked relieved it wouldn't have to be explained for the hundredth time that their partnership is a work partnership and not the other kind. Danny looked pleased with himself as he stood with arms crossed. Usually, the shoe was on the other foot with Steve being secure enough to let it pass while Danny had issues with people thinking they're a married couple.

Gesturing toward the tech who is now poised like Dracula over his latest victim, Dr. Farina said, "Tommy is going to draw what's going to seem like a lot of blood. Actually, after seeing that bruising, I'm going to request additional tests. I'll be back in a moment."

Turning to Danny she said, "Make sure your friend finishes stripping and is in a gown before I return."

"Crap!" muttered her patient

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 **Following chapters will pick up the pace a little and there may even be a bit of 'bodice ripping', (though it will never venture beyond PG). I'm much too easily embarrassed to write anything overly naughty. I'm way better at blowing things up than . . . umm . . . nevermind.**

 **Next update on Sunday. Reviews, as always, are yearned for.**


	4. Red Blood, Orange Socks

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 4

 **Sorry, sorry! I missed the deadline and I don't have a good excuse for doing so. I hope you all will forgive me and keep reading. Am working diligently on the next chapter. This one is a little shorter and I'm not even sure if it makes that much sense.**

 **The lovely SPNGran, (who kicked my butt to get this chapter out), took a good shot at catching my mistakes. Of course, I just had to mess with afterward so all remaining mistakes belong to Imaginary Beta. She thought she could coast but forgot about that 'best laid plans' thing.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't get paid for this and, at the moment, don't deserve to be.**

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Red Blood and Orange Socks

After two more hours waiting for the results of the blood draw, Steve had had enough.

Threatening to just sign himself out AMA, he'd convinced a reluctant Dr. Farina to let him leave the hospital. He didn't get away completely unfettered; having to promise to follow-up with his own doctor the next day and to adhere to the instructions of no activity other than that which could be done while reclining on a couch.

That last bit had actually made Danny snort in amusement. His partner's well-worn leather sofa had most likely been scene of more activity than just afternoon naps; at least while Catherine was still around.

"At least I didn't have to have my nose cauterized." said the SEAL as the two walked, more slowly than usual, toward the emergency room exit.

"Yeah, too bad. They could have sealed off the holes in your head at the same time; the ones that let all your marbles fall out." said Danny, still not over the annoyance of futilely trying to convince his stubborn partner it would be best to cooperate and let himself be wheeled out of the hospital.

The bleeding had stopped fairly quickly after his nose had been stuffed with Celox gauze. Then, having been there more than long enough to be confident the nosebleed wouldn't start up again, the doc agreed to let him leave. He'd walked out the door with a box of Celox and instructions to not to bend over or do any heavy lifting for a couple of days . . . as if. Right now it was all he could do to lift his feet to walk out of the ER.

Complaining all the way, Danny had followed him out to the Camaro that had been dropped off by the cousins on their way back to the palace. "You know Steven; if you keel over I'm not carryin' your ass!"

"Danny just shut up already! I'm not going to keel over! You are not going to have to carry me! I can walk just fine dammit so back off! You're making me feel like I'm being followed by a yapping poodle!"

That didn't go over well.

There was no way he could persuade or bully the tough Jersey detective into taking him back to work. Danny, bitching all the way, had delivered him home then had to be nearly bodily thrown out after declaring that he was there to see that doctor's instructions were followed. Of course, as soon as Danny left, Steve had every intention of turning right around and driving himself back to the palace.

He first had to get cleaned up. His T-shirt was nearly stiff with sweat and dried blood and his pants were covered in dirt and straw. Boots and overshirt had been stuffed into a plastic patient's belongings bag and he'd gone home in hospital issued non-skid socks. They were bright orange. "Well, at least they aren't pink", he'd grumbled as the only slightly amused nurse slipped them on his feet so he wouldn't have to bend over. What he didn't know is that Queens is one of the hospitals using color-coded socks for their patients. Orange is the color signifying the wearer is a flight risk.*

Tiredly climbing the stairs to his bedroom, he paused at the doorway to stare longingly at the bed. Maybe he'd rest for just a couple minutes before jumping into the shower.

Dropping his bag of clothing on the floor, and without removing his grimy attire, he lay down and closed his eyes. Just for a couple minutes . . .

…..

Every cop on the island had been at that damned fair!

Bob sat handcuffed to the metal chair and looked around at the bare walls for the hundredth time.

Bored out of his skull, he entertained himself with fantasies of caramel mocha cappuccinos with mountains of whipped cream and maybe cocoa sprinkles on top. With the money he was promised, he could have as many as he wanted. He could even get a croissant or a scone to go with it or even one of those gigantic muffins. Life would be good.

He hoped the boss would appreciate what he'd been through. First of all, being around that many kids was no walk in the park. The little brats were so noisy, and whiney . . . and messy. Everything they touched seemed to windup sticky. It was like the little fuckers had been coated in syrup before they'd left home. They were almost as disgusting as those smelly goats.

Second of all, his wrists are still smarting from being cuffed so tightly by that shrimpy little blonde asshole. He'll have to look him up when he gets out of here. On second thought, no, maybe not. He didn't seem to be any easier to take out than McGarrett.

Bob wriggled uncomfortably in the metal chair. _Third of all, I'm stuck here, handcuffed to a chair in this fucking room_ _with blue lighting that makes everyone look like the undead, and I have to pee - really bad._ He decided that maybe fantasizing about drinking cappuccinos isn't such a good idea right now.

…..

Last night's activity having included two drug/booze-fueled gang fights and the crash of a party bus, the ER had been flooded with casualties and the lab overloaded with samples awaiting tests. Reports for several of her patients had come back only late this morning and there were some that hadn't yet been posted. At the very least, results should have been available to Dr. Calder who'd taken over when she'd ended her shift at midnight.

Plopping onto the rolling chair at one of the ER's computers and setting her coffee cup next to the keyboard, (an official no-no but everyone ignored the rule), she punched in her code to access the database. Clicking once again on the file organized by patient name and medical record number she found that results were still pending for some of those she'd treated last night. Swearing under her breath, she searched for the lab's report for one patient in particular.

Having been an ER physician for a few years now, she didn't usually take her work home with her. Dwelling on thoughts of her patients and their reasons to have need of an emergency room wasn't healthy but this particular guy had been on her mind until she'd finally fallen into an exhausted slumber in the wee hours.

It bothered her that she'd let him coerce her into discharging him. Once he'd realized she wasn't affected by his intimidating glare; (one that probably scared the crap out of everyone else), he'd changed tactics and loosed a barrage of charm that she doubted no woman with blood in her veins could resist but she had – much to his frustration.

The lack of lab results had delayed release of more than one of those who really didn't need to be here. She supposed she couldn't blame the commander for pushing for his freedom despite her edict to stay put; otherwise he'd still be here awaiting results of the blood draw. But no matter his account of how he may have acquired the bruising or the reason for the nosebleeds, she had a bad feeling about it.

If he was determined to leave she couldn't stop him. Those stories she'd heard were apparently true; the guy is a total pain in the ass when he wants to be. Finally, when he'd pulled the IV out of his hand and swung his legs over the edge of the bed while growling at his partner to get his clothing, she'd given in. Securing his solemn promise that he'd see his own doctor the very next day, she'd agreed to release him. He'd have left AMA anyway.

Her irritation likely evident when she'd left the room to start the process for discharge, Detective Williams had nodded at her reassuringly. There is no doubt he would urge her patient do as instructed but the poor guy must have his hands full being partnered with someone so bull-headed. She felt sorry for him.

Clicking on the page that would reveal the results of Steven J. McGarrett's bloodwork her lips tucked into a grim line as she read the numbers. "Shit" she muttered.

She reached for the phone next to the computer and her hand bumped the venti sized cup sitting next to it which tipped it onto the keyboard. "Shit!" she yelped. "Someone get me a towel stat!"

The next ten minutes were filled with swearing and wiping coffee from what seemed every surface in the room. Finally finished with the mop-up, she tested the keyboard and was relieved to find that it didn't seem affected. When it had been turned upside-down, French roast with extra cream had cascaded forth.

Still muttering to herself about her own clumsiness she again reached toward the phone on the desk. She'd only punched in the first few digits of the patient's contact number when the hospital's loudspeaker system announced a code blue in the ER waiting room. Growling in frustration, she jumped up and hurried in that direction.

…

Lori Weston blinked at the sun rising over the Pacific as the redeye approached HNL. It would be good to see everyone again. Besides missing the warm weather, (especially since it's barely above freezing in DC right now), she missed her former teammates. Though her tenure with Five-0 had been brief, she'd felt a part of something that was making a difference. Hawaii couldn't have a better team keeping it safe from those seeking to do harm to its people or its commerce but, unfortunately for her, she'd missed one of the team a bit more than others.

Three years ago she'd returned to the mainland after having been dismissed by Governor Denning. He'd asked her who she felt responsible to, the State of Hawaii or Five-0? When she'd answered both, it hadn't been the answer he was looking for and she was out of a job. Though it had been a blow at the time, perhaps it was for the best. If she'd stayed, things could have gotten complicated.

Anyway, perhaps whatever she thought had happened between herself and the commander, (the spark she'd felt when he looked at her from under those ridiculously long eyelashes), may have never been a reality. Most likely it was just wishful thinking on her part. She'd gone back to her old job at Homeland Security and, while it is rewarding, it isn't in Hawaii.

Since then she'd heard that Catherine Rollins had resigned from the Navy and signed on with Five-0. Though this news had dashed whatever hope still harbored for rekindling that ember with the commander, however meager, (or imaginary), she truly hoped he and his love were happy.

Judging by those pictures of Kono's wedding that Danny had emailed a couple of months ago, (she'd sent a gift and regrets about not being able to be there because of an important ongoing case), Five-0's leader is still the hottest thing on two legs. The expression on his face was one of pure bliss as he held Catherine in his arms while they danced.

From what she'd gleaned from her former teammates, the guy hadn't had an easy life. She herself had witnessed situations that were certainly physically traumatic and, for pretty much any human being on the plant, would be emotionally traumatic as well. He hid things well. He certainly deserved whatever happiness he could find.

In any case, there's no way she'd pursue anything with Steve because his woman had already staked her claim. Besides, Rollins could probably kick ass from here to Sunday if given the right reason. Oh well.

Pulled away from thoughts of muscles, intriguing tattoos and hazel-blue eyes when she felt the clunk of the landing gear as it locked into place, the vast blue expanse of ocean below gave way to land. The Airbus began its final descent into Honolulu International. Greenery interspersed with blocky shapes of concrete and glass came into view below. Lit by the sunrise the city looked to be made of gold and she smiled as the tingle of something familiar rolled across her skin.

…...

He pulled up to the front of the McGarrett house and saw that Steve was actually waiting for him on the porch; an impatient air about him as he set down his cup and quickly strode down the steps.

Nearly as soon as the car came to a stop, Steve was at the driver's side door. Without needing to say anything, he stood there expecting Danny to get out of the car and go around to the passenger side while handing him the keys as he passed.

Rather than the usual, this time the detective sat silently evaluating his partner. He was still pissed that Steve had bullied his way out of the hospital last night though he did look more rested this morning. When he'd dropped him off before heading home to collapse into bed himself, Danny hadn't been sure if the guy could even make it up the stairs to his bedroom. His stubborn friend had refused any help and almost physically pushed him out the door.

As Five-0's commander waited impatiently, all but tapping his foot, Danny finally exited the car. "You still look like crap." he announced as he continued to assess his friend for signs of unwellness. "But at least you don't look quite as much like road kill like you did last night." he added

Ignoring the comment Steve asked, "You want to get some cocopuffs on the way in? I'll buy." As he took the keys and slid behind the wheel he was hoping to distract his partner with the promise of his favorite pastry.

"Does the Pope shit in the woods?" asked the Jersey detective who installed himself in the passenger seat and buckled up.

"That's kinda sacrilegious don't you think?" replied Steve as he turned the key and the Camaro's 400-plus horses came to life.

"This, coming from a man who can swear in probably twenty different languages?" responded Williams

"What can I say, it's an art." smiled Steve as he backed the Camaro onto the street.

"If it's an art then you're Michelangelo . . . no, no, I take that back, you're Van Gough; he was nuts like you."

"Hey, I still have both my ears." laughingly defended McGarrett as he turned right onto the street that would take them toward Liliha's Bakery.

"So far." huffed Danny, "You just haven't gotten them shot off yet. That being said, how do you feel?"

"Better: now that I've had a chance to get some rest because our suspect is finally in custody."

Danny nodded in approval but girded himself for later battle. He knows that Steve is most likely thinking a doctor's visit is not in his immediate future. He needed to think again.

Steve hoped the answer would stave off some of his partner's overly zealous mother-henning. He actually does feel better though he still cringes when he thinks about what happened yesterday. Getting knocked on his ass wasn't all that bad but it had been embarrassing to ralph in front of everyone like a kid who'd just staggered off a rollercoaster ride.

After picking up the promised cocopuffs as well as malasadas and then, at Danny's insistence, swinging by a drive-thru for takeout breakfast sandwiches, they headed toward H.Q. There was no rush to get to work today. After Chin and Kono had interrogated him, their suspect now languished in an HPD holding cell. Most importantly, the missing boy had been found safe and sound with an aunt and uncle on Lanai. They still have to find out how the kid could be gone for two weeks without anyone informing his parents. The boy's mother and father, in particular, are interested in knowing how relatives could leave them frantic with worry about their missing son while he was safe all along. Whatever the reason, it's certainly going to make for an awkward family gathering next Christmas.

"Maybe we should stop at Queen's on the way in to check if the results for your bloodwork have finally comeback." suggested Danny though he knew it was useless.

"Nah. Why bother. If there's something wrong they'd have called me by now." said Steve as he steered toward H.Q; the morning streets already warming toward the predicted higher than usual temps.

Danny had recognized his friend's manipulation of plying him with his favorite food. He wasn't at all distracted from his mission, or make that 'missions'. Getting Five-0's stubborn leader to acquiesce to further medical care as he'd promised the ER doctor last night is going to be a challenge. It would have to be accomplished with finesse or maybe subterfuge or maybe a baseball bat.

The second of the dogged and equally stubborn detective's missions is to get Steve to talk about the situation with his girlfriend or lack thereof. The reticent Navy man had 'battened down his hatches' and would respond in only the most minimal way to questions as to how he feels about being abandoned by the woman he intended to marry. Catherine's latest departure was supposedly to Nepal and Steve offered only the vaguest of explanations as to why the woman had left him . . . again. He'd given the cliff-notes version by saying Cath wanted to feel she was her own person and couldn't do that if she'd stayed.

Whatever her reason, it's fucking lame, thought Danny as he glanced again at the man in the driver's seat.

Then, startled by what he'd suddenly noticed, he loudly exclaimed, "Wait! Are you wearing extra layers of clothing?" With both hands on the wheel, the cuffs of his friend's usual lightweight overshirt had ridden up to reveal that his T-shirt has long sleeves. "I've never seen you cover yourself with more than was absolutely necessary to keep from being arrested for public nudity." said Danny as he plucked at Steve's sleeve.

Batting the hand away in annoyance, Steve barked, "Just drop it okay?

 _Of course he'd discover the damned shirt - the guy's a detective._

This morning the SEAL had dug through stuff acquired to wear when on deployment in a less than tropical climate. Though the morning was already warm and there's the possibility of the temperature climbing over eight-five degrees today, he'd donned the long-sleeved undershirt and held out hope that maybe no one would notice he kept his overshirt buttoned and his cuffs rolled down. Fat chance.

He supposes he should just be glad his much too observant partner hadn't seen the additional bruises added to the ones that were visible last night in the ER. The insides of his elbows showed purpling stains under his skin from where blood had been drawn. The back of his hand was bruised as well but it could possibly be explained away as damage from when he'd tried to take the needle out himself before announcing he was leaving the hospital, doctor's release or no.

Sure he'd been a bit chilled and it isn't normal for him to bruise that way but if something is seriously wrong, the doctor would have contacted him . . . right?

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 ***Not all hospitals use a color coded system for socks and codes can vary from hospital to hospital but, in some, Yellow socks means the patient has a risk of falling, Red means allergies, Green means the patient is independent, Purple means do not resuscitate, and Orange really does denote a flight risk.**

 **Next chapter will be up within a week or sooner. Can't promise a particular day but I'll try to make it sooner :-) Would appreciate your comments even if it's only to yell at me.**


	5. Questions in Need of Answers

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 5

 **I know I promised a diagnosis in this chapter but it would have run too long. I want to do this right so the news will definitely be revealed in chapter 6. Perhaps I've left enough clues for you to figure it out if you Google the symptoms. It's not what most of you probably suspect! Sorry, but 'the force' has compelled me toward the dark side. I know there are those of you who are not happy that Lori's back. All I can say is don't worry ;-)**

 **Imaginary Beta is back on the job for this one. As before, don't hate her because she's beautiful, (but not terribly effective). I'm sure mistakes will abound and will reveal themselves right after I hit the 'post chapter' button.**

 **Disclaimer: If I made money from this, not-so-ninja cat and husband would be sent to an island far, far, away – and it wouldn't be Hawaii. Don't worry, I'd make sure they were fed and their litter box looked after.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Questions in Need of Answers

Kono is waiting at the curb when she exits the terminal. After having been bundled up for weeks against the cold of the nation's capital, the Hawaiian sun is welcome but her friend's smile gives her an even warmer feeling. Lori Weston lets both soak into her skin as she grins in return.

Letting the moment get the better of them, with very un-cop-like squeals of delight, they rushed toward one another and embraced in greeting.

"It's so good to see you!" exclaimed Kono

"You too! I can't tell you how much I've missed you guys!" answered the snowbird who'd dropped her bags beside her as they'd hugged.

"How've you been wahine?" asked Five-0's female contingent stepping back to examine her former co-worker. Lori looks pretty much the same as when she'd last seen her; pale, beautiful, and fashion model svelte.

"If wahine means someone who's finally thawing out after spending what seems an eternity buried in snow, then life has been good and right now it's getting even better!"

"I still don't understand why anyone would prefer to live where you can't go barefoot any time of the year." said Kono crossing her lean arms over her body to mime a shiver.

"Isn't Danny always saying how much he misses Jersey? It snows there too." smiled Weston

"Yeah, well, I think our Jersey boy has finally been converted to Island boy. He actually surfs! He even went fishing with Steve and caught a giant tuna but that's a whole other story I won't go into right now. He still draws the line at pineapple on pizza though."

"It's nice to know that some things in this world never change." grinned Lori, "Thanks for the greeting committee. I didn't think any of you guys would have time to come to meet me. Is the stalker case wrapped up? Have I missed all the fun?"

"Sorry girlfriend, you did. We caught the bastard yesterday afternoon." answered Kono as she picked up one of the two bags to head toward the SUV parked a few feet away. "He's cooling his heels in HPD's lockup right now."

Lori took her remaining bag and followed her friend the few steps to the vehicle parked at the curb in the loading/unloading zone.

Kono had put the police placard on the dash but airport security still gave them the evil eye for leaving the car unmanned. She smiled at the uniformed men while waving and calling out an apology. "Sorry officers! We're leaving now!"

With parking restrictions being so tight these days for good reason; any unmanned vehicle parked at the curb is suspect. Though she'd only been a few feet from the SUV, two airport security cops glared back reprovingly.

The shorter of the two men had immediately recognized the lovely, tanned, young woman who'd parked illegally. Five-0's members have all appeared on TV at one time or another to give updates on a completed or ongoing case. He'd long had 'the hots' her for.

He smiled back and winked at the comely Hawaiian and her attractive companion as beside him, his partner rolled his eyes.

….

Giving up on sleep, Bob stared up at the lone light fixture for several minutes before he sighed then once again closed his eyes. He'd made up his mind to try to concentrate on the positive.

The boss should be happy enough with the job he'd done. Everything had gone pretty much as planned. Of course it would have been better had he not been caught but one can't have everything.

From previous experience in this facility he knows the food here isn't all that bad and they probably couldn't charge him with much more than evading arrest and assaulting an officer of the law.

Speaking of assault; that tattooed guy must be fucking indestructible! Shit! He'd been kicked hard enough to put a dent in a Buick but had apparently just ignored it and picked himself up and continued the chase. And who the hell jumps off a roof! That's just fucking insane!

He smirked into the emptiness of the cell _._ At least there'd been some satisfaction in finally putting him out of commission. _Mr. Indestructible didn't look all that tough lying curled-up on the ground and groaning. Fucker deserved what he got._

Bob sighed with boredom. He'd been here since that cute Hawaiian cop and her partner had given up on trying to get any information and had remanded him to HPD. It would probably be several more hours, if not days, before he'd be out on bail.

That thought got him to thinking once again about his employer. The guy never seemed to be in a hurry. _Well, I suppose when you have that much money, you don't_ _have to ever be in a hurry._ _Must be nice._

Even when he'd dropped off the boy with a duffle full of cash and instructions to take both to those people on Lanai, he was cool as a cucumber and didn't seem to be in a rush.

The boss is weird but he didn't think he'd actually do anything to hurt a kid. He was _almost_ positive about that but the brat wouldn't stop squalling and it had taken over an hour and almost half a bottle of cough medicine to get him to shut up. And scaring those little girls was just part of adding a little bit of excitement to a, so far, boring operation . . . right?

Bob squirmed and tried to make himself more comfortable on the unyielding surface. Feeling his frustration returning, he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself with happier thoughts. _When I'm finally out of here and I get paid, I'll go back to the_ _mainland and maybe get a nice place to live. For sure I'll be able to afford one. Maybe it'll be in one of those fancy-shmancy condo developments where the ground floor has those little shops called boutiques that sell really stupid but expensive shit and there's neat places to get coffee. Yeah, coffee shops!_ Once again he dreams of fluffy mounds and swirls of whipped cream floating atop a steaming cappuccino.

….

"We still have to get information from the guy we've got in custody." said Chin as he poured a miniscule amount of half and half into his cup then added coffee. He frowned when he returned the carton to the fridge and noticed someone had abandoned a jar of mango preserves without a lid and it had tipped over; its contents now a gooey trail leading to the shelf below. _We better clean that up before Steve sees it._

"I have a feeling that, even if he didn't take him, he knows something about that kid." said the Hawaiian, turning back toward his teammate.

There are only the two of them here right now. They'd been sitting at the small table in the breakroom, sipping their morning coffee, as they waited for the rest of the team to straggle in. Steve was usually the first one in but, considering how he'd looked when they'd last seen him, it was understandable that he may have slacked off a little.

Actually, when he'd called from the hospital with an update on their boss, Danny had said he hoped to talk Steve into staying home. Everyone knew how that would turn out. He could have an arm missing and the stubborn bastard would still show up to do his job.

Lou Grover and the Hawaiian detective had been discussing the case they hoped to close very shortly. Chin was still feeling the frustration of failing to get their suspect to talk. He and Kono had grilled the guy for hours yesterday to no avail.

Though they were still fairly certain he was their stalker, the suspect had been telling the truth about not taking the kid. In his pockets were several suspiciously convenient cash register receipts to prove he was on the other side of the island when ten year old Jason Keoki had disappeared. Who walks around with grocery store receipts from two weeks ago in their pockets?

As it turned out, all this time, the boy had been staying with his aunt and uncle on Lanai. For reasons they'd yet to learn, the couple who had him never contacted his parents. The news of Jason's disappearance had been blasting from the island's television stations since he'd gone missing. Surely they had to know everyone was looking for him.

Even a bit more puzzling was that a thorough search of the suspect's apartment had yielded nothing to support the suspicion he was even a pedophile. He didn't fit the usual profile in that there were no photos, literature or videos found and the guy apparently didn't even own a computer. Lots of things still didn't add up.

There are several questions in need of answers.

"The sightings have stopped. You think that's some sort of coincidence?" asked Lou as he took another sip from the bright blue mug labeled 'World's Best Dad'. Danny had one as well but at least it was a different color. Steve had proposed, (they suspect only half-jokingly), a contest or rating system to see who really is the best dad. The guy is way too competitive.

The two left the break room to get back to the files they'd been reviewing. On the big screen in the main room was displayed a map of the stalker sightings. A date and time stamp appeared beside each red dot signifying when he'd been spotted.

"It still bothers me. I know eye-witness reports aren't that reliable and he'd been caught on surveillance video only a couple times but, even with provable sightings, we still don't know how he got from place to place so quickly." said Chin. "It's like he was in three places at once. He'd have to have a transporter to do that."

"You mean like on Star Trek?" asked Grover, "I guess I wouldn't be too surprised if he did have one. With all the computer crap they've got going on these days it's a wonder he didn't send a hologram of himself."

"Hey, don't think that's not beyond the realm of possibility." laughed Chin. "I think there's something I saw online the other day about hologram technology being refined as we speak. They're supposed to be totally commonplace any day now."

"Well, if that's true," grinned Grover, "I wanna put my order in for a hologram that looks like Halle Berry."

"Yeah, just let me know if you find out where to send those requests. I'm sure Kono would want to order one of Justin Timberlake." said Chin who never let an opportunity go by to tease his cousin about her fangirling despite now being a married woman.

"Is that the kid with the weird hair and the attitude." asked Grover, "No offense to Kalakaua 'cause she's a baby compared to me but isn't he a little young for her?"

"No, not Justin Bieber; Justin . . . "

At that moment, the door opened and Steve and Danny entered with the promised breakfast sandwiches.

"Hey boss." simultaneously exclaimed the two standing at the smart table; two sets of dark eyes crinkled with smiles of greeting, one of those sets shifting focus to stare almost lustfully at the paper bag held by Danny, the other set focusing elsewhere.

Steve could almost feel Chin's gaze sweep over him in evaluation. He straightened even more and tried to put some energy into his step. All he needs is for another member of his team to rag on about his appearance. Grover had pried his gaze off the paper bag and was now staring at him as well.

"I know I'm sometimes invisible when standing next to the glory that is our supreme leader; but hey, I'm the one holding the sandwiches." groused Danny as he stood dangling the paper sack before them.

"Sorry Jersey." smiled Grover, "Seeing Steve walking in under his own power and looking almost human is a surprise. Last time I saw him he looked like someone had put in him in a blender and hit the puree button."

"That's funny, Lou." said McGarrett, his gruff tone softened by a slight smile.

"Good to see you looking . . . better, Steve." said Chin. He couldn't truthfully use the word 'good' because _truthfully_ , Steve still looked like crap. _And what's with the buttoned-up shirt?_

"Like I told Danny, now that I've finally gotten some rest . . . Hey? Aren't we missing someone?" asked McGarrett looking around the office as Danny looked around for a place to set the sack of food. Chin gave the blonde a warning look. No one disrespects his treasured marvel of technology by setting stuff on top of it. The smart table is sacrosanct.

"Where's Kalakaua?" asked Danny

"She phoned to say she's gonna be a little late." answered Grover, "Something about picking up someone who used to work here."

Still holding a bakery box in his hands, Steve nodded. "Must be Lori Weston."

"It'll be nice to see her again." said Danny as he walked toward his office; the others following the man who carried nirvana in a paper sack. Danny set the bag on his desk while Steve set the bakery box beside it.

"Help yourselves, there's plenty for everyone." said Five-0's leader

"Steve even paid for it!" chuckled Danny as he took his seat and gestured toward the food.

"Can't eat yet." announced Grover as he looked at his colleagues with a frown.

"Why?" asked Danny as he reached into the paper bag and drew out a sandwich.

"We haven't checked out the window." said Grover earnestly as he eyed the sandwich in Danny's hand.

"For what?" asked Chin, brows rising in question as Steve looked on with a puzzled expression.

"Surely there's gonna to be pigs flying around out there. Sky's gonna be crowded with 'em. Might be a safety issue." somberly answered the tall, shiny-domed, man. Chin choked on the coffee he'd just inhaled and Danny grinned widely at Steve who just looked back at him blankly.

"Didn't you just say that McGarrett bought?" asked Grover

Belatedly realizing he'd been dissed, Steve stood staring at Grover as though not believing what he'd heard. "Just enjoy your breakfasts." he finally growled, "You're going to need the energy because I've got a lot of plans to help you guys burn off the calories."

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, he turned on his heel and strode back to his office.

"Something I said?" asked Grover with feigned innocence as he reached into the bag. He felt as though the Great White Dove had dropped down from Heaven to deliver ham, egg, and cheese on a toasted Hawaiian roll.

Before leaving for work, the ex SWAT leader had eaten a breakfast lovingly prepared by his wife. The 'healthy' meal consisted of scrambled egg whites accompanied by half an orange and a slice of whole wheat toast with a miniscule pat of cholesterol-free, salt-free, flavor-free margarine that wouldn't melt in a nuclear holocaust. The big man paused with the sandwich halfway to his mouth to warn, "Don't you guys rat me out to Renee. 'Cause if she finds out it won't be pretty . . . and I like others to share in my misery."

"No worries brah." laughed Chin

"If Gracie finds out, she won't be too happy either, so yeah, no worries." smiled Danny as he wiped a glob of cheese from his lip.

He was into his third bite when he noticed there were too many sandwiches left in the sack. Putting his own down, he picked another up and walked toward Steve's office. _Maybe he was too annoyed with the teasing to take one with him when he walked out?_ thought the detective

He'd just entered Steve's office when the phone on the desk rang. Putting up a hand to warn off the start of conversation Steve picked it up and barked his usual; "McGarrett" that always sounded almost a challenge rather than a greeting.

His brow knit as he listened intently before he asked, "Yeah, umm, you sure this can't wait?"

Danny looked on in concerned curiosity. This didn't sound like the usual call telling them a case was in the works.

Steve listened in silence for another few moments. Danny swears that the paleness under his friend's tan became even more evident.

"Yeah, umm okay. I'll be there in about twenty minutes." said Steve before he carefully set the handset back into its cradle.

"What's going on?" asked Danny, the sandwich in his hand already forgotten.

Steve looked up as though he didn't remember his friend had been standing before his desk. "That uhh, that was Dr. Farina from Queens, she wants to see me."

…

Kono, with Lori in tow, entered the office to see Chin and Lou standing at the smart table. They looked up and Chin immediately smiled and held his arms open to greet his former teammate. "Hey, long time no see." he said as he enfolded Lori in his embrace and she hugged him in return.

"It's so nice to be back! Even if it's only for a visit." responded the profiler

Chin stood back and gestured toward the large, dark skinned, man next to him who was looking on curiously. "Let me introduce you to Lou Grover, he's the newest member of the team."

Lou nodded his head and extended his hand for a shake, "Nice to meet you. I've heard about you. You're the one who's a pretty good shot with an RPG."

"Just luck." responded Lori with an almost shy smile, "I'm better with an H&K nine mil but it _was_ quite a rush."

"Well, you musta impressed the hell outta Steve." said Lou, "He told me the story about you taking out a bridge which prevented him from taking a permanent vacation in North Korea."

She was bit startled that the incident in Five-0's past had been revealed and glanced at Kono.

"Lou's ohana." replied Kono to the unasked question.

"It was just part of the job", shrugged Lori to the very tall, thickset man.

"Yeah, uh huh, if by-the-job you mean invading hostile foreign countries by flying in on a fifty-year-old eggbeater named Tangerine." smiled Lou. "McGarrett seemed pretty impressed you'd hit your target dead-on even though you'd never fired a rocket launcher before."

"So, where is our fearless leader?" asked Lori, "He and Danny married yet?"

The three members of Five-0 snorted all at once. "Now, _that_ truly would be a marriage made in Hell." laughed Chin

"It's always a surprise to see both of them here at the same time considering, the way they argue, one should have killed the other by now." laughed Grover

Kono responded, "You guys know that if that ever happens we'll never find the body."

"Yeah, Steve _is_ pretty resourceful and Danny is from Jersey where 'Body Disposal for Beginners' is part of every elementary school's curriculum." laughed Lou

"Don't let Danny hear you dis Jersey." warned Chin

"What? You think I'm afraid of a guy I could brush off my shoulder like a gnat?" said Lou with mock bravado, puffing out his chest.

"Really?" said Kono, "Pound for pound, I think the guy's got more game than a cranked-up bobcat."

"Yeah", laughed Chin, "Danny could probably whip any of our asses. And, if he's pissed enough, maybe even Steve's."

"Well, right now I don't think I'd bet on Steve in a match with a tick-infested kitten." said Grover with a shake of his head; his smile gone.

"Why's that?" asked Lori, not sure if this was a lead-in to another joke.

….

They were shown to an office located near the Emergency Department. It didn't seem to belong to anyone in particular. There were some generic looking and cheaply framed prints on the walls; most of them landscapes of Hawaii but a couple of the others were of different subjects as well.

Steve sat staring blankly at one print no doubt intended to put children at ease. It showed a fluffy grey kitten playing with a brightly colored ball of yarn.

Danny was pretty sure his friend wasn't really seeing what he looked at. Steve's eyes were blank, his thoughts directed inward. There was no indication at all that he may even be nervous.

The blonde, on the other hand, was from far from tranquil. _This can't be good,_ he was thinking as he bounced a knee up and down as they waited. He knew from experience that a meeting like this in a private office was very likely portent of less than happy news.

Finally not being able to keep silent any longer, Danny asked, "You knew something was wrong, didn't you?"

Steve slowly turned his head to look at his partner and paused a moment before replying, "I kind of suspected it. I've been pretty tired lately without a lot of reason for being so."

"We've all been working long hours so it's understandable to be tired but that along with the bruising and the nosebleeds weren't enough clues for you to get your ass to a doctor?" asked Danny, unable to keep a tone of reproach from the question.

"I guess I thought it would resolve on its own." shrugged Steve. "I've never been sick before; I mean other than . . . "

"You mean other than being shot, blown up, stabbed, etcetera?" said Danny, "You're an animal."

That declaration actually brought a small smile to Steve's pallid face. Danny calling him an animal wasn't annoying. The familiarity of it was somehow comforting.

At that moment the door opened and three people walked in.

Steve was startled though he didn't show it. He was expecting only Dr. Farina.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce Dr. Fanning from Hematology and Dr. Andrade from Oncology.

At the word, oncology, Danny's heart skipped a beat. That definitely wasn't a good sign. Steve, his face expressionless once more, nodded his head toward the small committee of physicians.

…

As they walked toward the hospital's lab for Steve to get more blood drawn, Danny went over in his head what they'd learned from the doctors. There could be several different reasons for Steve's symptoms; none of them good. He looked again at his friend to see if there was any indication of how he felt about what he'd just been told.

Of course, there was none. Steve strode calmly along beside him.

Though he didn't show it, the tall man's head was reeling from the information he'd just been given. Worst case, it could be leukemia. There were other possibilities as well, some not so serious, some possibly fatal. There was more testing to go through before a final diagnosis.

Suddenly, he felt really, really, tired. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. He didn't remember the lab being this far from the Emergency Department. He'd been there before as part of the annual physical required for employment with the State of Hawaii. Right now it felt as though they'd been walking for miles.

They'd finally arrived at the large open room with an intake desk taking up much of one wall. Danny waited while Steve was whisked off to get blood drawn and whatever else was needed for the tests.

He was shown to one of the tiny cubicles which held a chair fitted with extendable arm rests. Whether access was needed to the right or left limb, the extensions could be deployed so the patient's arm could lay flat. The phlebotomist, this one a young local woman with dimples and button black eyes, whisked in with her tray of needles and color coded tubes.

She read the chart and checked the information against the plastic band that had been fastened to his wrist when he'd checked in at the department's desk.

With a bright smile she said, "So Mr. McGarrett, you're here to get blood drawn and then you have to give a urine sample for testing as well. You think you're hydrated enough to give us a sample?"

Steve nodded. He knows he shouldn't feel weird about it but the tech looks like she's still in junior high and she's asking him if he can pee in a cup. He also knows that if this, whatever it is, proves to be serious, things are going to get even more uncomfortable.

The phlebotomist, Pearl Yuen, proceeded to draw what seemed dozens of vials of blood before she said "All done." and with a bright smile that once again produced her dimples, she wrapped his arm tightly with stretch gauze. Handing him a plastic cup that had been labeled with his name and medical record number she said "The restroom's just down that short hall to your left."

Phlebotomist Yuen had noticed the handsome but pale face had acquired a faint bit of color when he'd taken the cup. _How cute_ , she thinks as he thanked her then walked toward the restroom. She frowns as she watches him leave. She'd drawn blood for this assortment of tubes before. It usually meant the docs suspected something serious. She hoped not.

He set the cup where the sign on the wall instructed him to - a shelf accessible through a little door that opened from the other side. He frowned when he saw the red tint of the liquid in the container. "Huh, I didn't notice that earlier." he murmured to himself.

He exited to the waiting area where Danny was absently leafing through an _Island Living_ magazine. "You ready?" he asked his friend.

Danny stood and tossed his reading material onto the small table next to his chair. He'd just opened his mouth to ask the first of many questions regarding information the three doctors had earlier imparted when Steve's phone rang.

Pulling the device from his pocket, "McGarrett." answered the tall man in his usual way. There was a brief moment of silence while Five-0's leader listened to the caller. "Be there in ten." he said, before motioning toward the exit. "We're up, Danny." he announced as he began a jog across the lobby and out the door toward the parking lot, his partner hot on his heels.

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 **I will, not doubt, be sneaking back to fix errors on this one. Wanted to post it as soon as possible because I screwed up my deadline on the previous chapter.**

 **Reviews and comments are appreciated and if you see something that needs to be fixed please let me know.**

 **Next chapter up by Thursday – I hope.**


	6. Unstrung

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 6

 **Tried my very best to make my deadline but out of town visitors sucked up my writing time. Husband wouldn't allow me to abandon them with the explanation that I have a vastly more pleasant way to spend my time. Relatives, meh.**

 **Be warned. This was not betaed by anyone! There will be mistakes but I had to get it out there before you came looking for me with guns and machetes. I don't run all that fast.**

 **Disclaimer: There is absolutely no monetary reward for writing this. My reward is the warm fuzzies I get when hearing from you guys, (that's not a hint or anything).**

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Unstrung

He sat back, enjoying his shot of Jameson as the whiskey's warmth spread outward from the core of his body. Everything had gone almost perfectly and it had been a lot of fun.

They should have discovered it by now.

He wondered who had figured it out; certainly not those rent-a-cops the museum was using. They hadn't much choice in their use since every _real_ cop on the island was working on the supposed stalker case. Even if his crew had been discovered in the act and the pretend cops had called for help, the only ones left to respond would have been HPD's file clerks. An amusing thought ran through his mind as he pictured the water cooler warriors throwing staplers and paper clips as people fled. He actually chuckled aloud.

Sitting there reveling in his success, Martin suddenly had an eerie feeling he was being watched. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her in the corner of the room. She was there looking on accusingly as she leaned against the wall.

Taking another sip he stood and, with glass in hand, went to her. Standing before her, he bent to look eye-to-eye. They stared at each other for a long moment before he straightened.

She's certainly a sour looking old biddy. As a matter of fact, she greatly resembled the witch who ran the library at his old high school. Last he heard, she was still there; shushing a whole new generation of students and threatening them with dire consequences if they dared dog-ear a page instead of using a bookmark. Of course he didn't suppose many of them even read paper and ink books anymore. Maybe if they got too rowdy she'd threaten to confiscate their cell phones.

Of course, with a name like Mrs. Biscuit it wasn't hard to see why she always seemed to be in a foul mood. He wondered if Mr. Biscuit was still alive. Now _he_ is the one who should be forgiven any ill temper. He must have been teased mercilessly as a child.

 _I can certainly relate,_ he thought.

He gave a soft snort of amusement then smiled down at her and said softly, "You're mine now Mrs. Trabuc; well at least until you're sold."

He stood there for several more minutes, taking mental inventory of her companions before sighing and walking toward his office. He had to get to work and confirm the arrangements. The passengers aren't in the most robust condition so he had to be sure they weren't going to suffer when traveling from a tropical climate to the frigidity of the mainland's east coast. There was still a lot to do.

After completing that task he had to see about getting that idiot Bob out of the slammer. The second lookalike was already off the island. Though now much more financially well-off, hopefully the man is blending back into his very mundane and unremarkable life.

He'd never understood why someone would actually _want_ to live such a boring existence when there was so much excitement to be had in this world.

…

"So what is so important that it has us out on a case after being put through the wringer for the past three weeks?"

Danny looked on disapprovingly as Steve aimed the Camaro toward the crime scene. He looked even more exhausted, if that was even possible. The shadows under his eyes were nearly dark enough to match the rest of the bruises.

"The theft of something so important that it's got Denning foaming at the mouth. He's actually going to meet us there."

"What!" exclaimed Danny in surprise

"He said, I quote", 'Those fucking bastards have given the State of Hawaii a black eye and if we don't recover what they've taken, Five-0, as well as my governorship is toast.'"

"Yeah, that does sound a little serious but recover what? What did they steal?"

"Dunno the specifics yet, he was kind of . . . unstrung for lack of a better word."

"Then it's gotta be something big. I've never seen the guy get worked-up about anything unless he was reaming you out for one of your usual stunts." said Danny

"Stunts?" asked Steve, "I don't do stunts." he added indignantly, "What are you talking about?!"

"Oh come on." snorted Danny, "You know very well what I'm talking about: blowing things up, shooting things up, and scaring the crap out of people in general . . . the usual."

Steve didn't bother to respond as he took a corner so fast it prompted his passenger to grab the 'oh shit' handle above the door.

Though for some of the commute they'd used lights and siren, it earned them no points. The streets surrounding the complex that included several county and state buildings as well as the new convention center were heavily congested.

As their commute slowed to a stop, Steve had impatiently resorted to using the siren to make that whooping sound to get those in front of them to clear a path so they could proceed. Danny was sure it must have given at least one driver a heart attack if not need for change of underwear. At least the Neanderthal didn't drive on the sidewalk to get around them this time.

Finally having battled their way through traffic, they arrived at the State Museum, next to which had been built the gigantic new convention center.

It looked as though every cop on the island was milling around in front of the twenty foot tall banners proclaiming a once in a lifetime exhibition of Impressionist paintings. It was supposed to start tomorrow.

Danny recognized names like Renoir, Monet, Gauguin and, of course, Van Gough. Just a couple of days ago Gracie had been after him to get tickets to the exhibit that had been making the rounds of the most prestigious museums in the country.

Prior to having traveled here from Los Angeles, the works had been exhibited at the Guggenheim in New York. His daughter told him this was the most important art show in Hawaii _ever_ and she _has_ to go see it! He hadn't had a chance to go online yet for the tickets and, right now, it looked like maybe he needn't bother.

"Wow" said Steve as they made their way through a crowd of reporters toward where the Governor stood on the steps of the museum. "No wonder Denning was on fire. Judging by the names listed on those banners, these paintings have got to be priceless."

"What do you know about paintings, I mean other than the one of the dogs playing poker?" chuffed Danny

Steve, concentrating on getting through the crowd, didn't reply. Denning had been easily spotted from the moment they pulled up. The man, impeccably dressed as always, was standing surrounded by the media. "Governor! Governor!" called out pretty much every reporter there, trying to get the attention of the man whose commanding presence was even more notable than his sartorial splendor.

Denning was calmly answering questions posed by the savvier of those who stood behind the microphones shoved at him. He ignored those who'd couched their inquiries in negative terms, such as: 'Governor Denning, do you think the state really has the tools and personnel to apprehend thieves who are obviously much more sophisticated than those who've recently run rampant through the state?' As opposed to: 'Governor, will your elite task force, the one that apprehended the stalker so quickly, be deployed on this case?'

To the later question he answered, "My special task force has never failed to apprehend those who mistakenly think they can commit crimes in the State of Hawaii and not pay for their transgressions."

"So, you sound pretty confident that Five-0 will catch whoever did this?" asked a reporter they recognized as being from KAEO - one of the local outlets. The guy's perfect coif never seemed to have a strand out of place; even that time he'd done a stand-up during a hurricane that blew through the islands last year. Danny had been in awe.

"I have every confidence that Commander McGarrett and his team will have these criminals, whoever they are, behind bars very shortly. Five-0 has never failed in its mission to protect the citizens and commerce of our state. You can rest assured that those responsible for this will be apprehended very shortly."

Steve winced at that last bit of promotional crap. Though they probably had the highest solve rate of any law enforcement team in the country, they weren't perfect. There had been times when cases had gone cold without anyone having been arrested. There were a couple of cases that had remained unsolved after having had hours and hours of work put into them. Steve took it personally when an investigation came to naught. Failure is anathema to his very being and, though this mindset made him ferociously good at his job, it also made him neglect his own welfare at times . . . like now.

Danny looked up in expectantly when he felt Steve's hand on his shoulder. Anticipating a question or maybe that Steve was just trying to get his attention so he could point something out to him; instead, he saw an alarmed expression and nearly bloodless complexion. Steve had grabbed onto him for support.

"You okay babe?" asked Danny worriedly

Before Steve could answer, the Governor had spotted them at the edge of the throng surrounding him and announced, "People, my Task Force is here and we have work to do. My staff will be keeping you updated on the progress in solving this case."

Before the grumbling swarm of reporters could change focus and descend on Five-0's leader and his second-in-command, the governor's very efficient staff had ushered Denning and the two task force members to a nearby, swarm free, meeting room.

Denning looked pointedly at his watch, "I could have used you guys fifteen minutes ago."

"Sorry sir, traffic was unusually dense on the way here. I apologize for the delay." said Steve

His partner seemed to have quickly regained his steadiness but Danny, without making it obvious, was keeping an eye on him.

"I'm waiting for that report!" barked Denning to one of his assistants who'd followed them into the room, a petite, curly-haired, redhead.

"We're just waiting for the final tally of what was taken sir. The museum's director is going over it as we speak. Lionel will bring it to you as soon as Mr. Atwell has completed the inventory." the woman scurried off to see what she could do to hurry along the process. Her boss was getting crankier by the minute. Everyone needed to hop-to before they were all out of jobs.

Turning back toward his Task Force members he said, "The cause for my ire, beside the theft of millions of dollars' worth of art, is also compounded by a problem that you've no doubt encountered on your travel here. We've managed to secure a very lucrative contract to provide the venue for the ANM trade show. The new convention center is expected to bring in millions of dollars to the state's coffers but I'm afraid the infrastructure we have in place right now isn't quite up to handling the additional burden."

"It took much too long for law enforcement to arrive after report of the theft. As you, yourselves, have discovered, getting here through the additional traffic created by the trade show is a bitch."

Both men before him nodded solemnly in agreement.

"We don't have time to go into it right now, but as soon as this is over I expect you to get back to me with your thoughts on the matter. I was actually expecting it weeks ago. You did read my memo on, right?"

Five-0's leader replied "Yes, yes I did." When he didn't elaborate and though, to most people, he appeared unfazed, Danny recognized the look on his friend's face. It was Steve's version of deer in the headlights.

His second-in-command immediately jumped in, "It's just that with the stalker case taking up so much of our time, we haven't been able to concentrate on issues that weren't quite so urgent."

 _Boy,_ _Steve really is off his game_ , thought the detective. His friend, despite not being expert in the subtleties of mammal to mammal communication, is very much a master at what the SEAL liked to call, 'evasive maneuvers'. The guy could usually bob and weave with the best of them and wasn't often caught off guard.

 _Of course_ Five-0's leader had been lying when he said he'd read the memo. Danny clearly remembers the entire conversation that began with Steve, after reading only the subject line, tossed it into his wastebasket while mumbling, "Oh, so now we're on fucking traffic detail?"

Danny knew it was going to somehow come back to bite them on the ass.

They were suddenly rescued when a guy they assumed was the unfortunate Lionel came into the room and handed the Governor a sheet of paper. As Denning read it, Danny swears he saw the man blanch.

….

The convention hall seemed utter chaos. Forklifts charged back and forth across the concrete floor like angry mechanical buffalo. They were busy either delivering or removing huge wooden crates from the numbered display spaces along the congested isles. The convention hall, what had once been a void that echoed with emptiness, was now nearly a city built overnight.

When set-up was complete, there were to be neat rows of vendors displaying their wares. Those smaller and less important sellers crammed their products along with their hopes and dreams into ten by ten foot spaces and waited for the God-like buyers to grace them with a visit. The larger manufacturers with capitol to back them had purchased the right to utilize larger pieces of real estate on which to erect stunning castles of commerce. There were to be laser shows, enormous LED screens, and various minor celebrities promoting their products. It was part legit commerce, part circus sideshow.

But all that is still a day away. Right now it's only pandemonium.

He dusted off his hands as he bolted the lid down on the last crate. He checked the bill of lading and confirmed which unsuspecting carrier was to haul the crates containing priceless cargo to the harbor where they would be loaded onto a specially fitted ship.

He knew these climate controlled boxes had cost a pretty penny. They were supposedly to be stored here along with the hundreds of other crates that were now empty after having held displays and product for the ANM show on the floor above.

This operation had been in the planning for over three years since the boss had discovered the happy synchronicity of an exhibit of priceless art and what was to be the first major trade show held in the new Loulea Convention Center.

From the moment the first scoop of earth had been excavated, a tunnel leading from the below ground storage area to the State Museum's basement had been part of the plan. Of course only a select, (and soon to be more prosperous), clique knew of this detour in the building of the sleek new edifice where sellers, buyers and thieves were to convene.

All had gone as planned. With big money to fund the operation, those willing to look the other way had run the gamut of professions from laborers, to engineers, to museum curators.

….

Steve stood looking on as the museum's head honcho reamed out his assistant. "You total idiot! How could you not spot the forgeries! Van Gogh did not paint a Chihuahua on Madame Trabuc's lap! And how the hell could you miss the forgery of the Lautrec?! Beyoncé was not a can-can dancer at the Moulin Rouge!"

His assistant, Adam's apple moving up and down with every utterance, desperately tried to save his job. "Sir, our regular technicians were sent to Lanai to pack up that exhibit of eighteenth century koa wood artifacts. The substitute crew I was given to work with wouldn't know a Renoir from a velvet Elvis. They hung the paintings according to the schematics but had no great knowledge of the works of the Impressionists!"

The apoplectic museum director looked about to go up in a puff of smoke. Pinks slips were sure to be appearing with the next mail delivery.

Tired of the useless drama and just tired in general, Five-0's leader had run out of the very little patience he had to begin with and finally yelled, "Hey! Knock it off!"

The two jumped in surprise and turned wide-eyed toward him.

"We have an investigation to conduct. If you want those paintings back, I suggest you calm down and answer some questions." he barked, pinning the two with what his team called the glare of death.

So far, they had no idea how the stolen paintings had gotten out of the building. Considering the worth of the exhibit, extra security cameras had been installed in every corner of the main gallery. When the video was checked, it showed only the museum's substitute technicians carefully installing paintings in their proper places. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

It was discovered that ten paintings were missing. Forgeries had been hung in their places. The thieves' selection included the only three Van Gough's in the exhibit, two Renoirs, one Gauguin and one each Lautrec, Monet, Morisot and Degas. There'd been many other paintings by other artists but the scoundrels had stolen only the most prized. The curator had said that, considering the fame of those particular pieces, it would be foolish to even search for a buyer.

They questioned anyone who was currently in the building. The rest of the team had been sent to interview others who had connections to the museum. As the day wore on, it was getting ever more difficult to stay on his feet. He barely managed to get through that last interview; exhaustion and an aching back made it nearly impossible to focus on the answers of those he questioned.

His joints and muscles felt as though he'd run thirty miles with a full pack that grew heavier by the minute. He could barely lift his feet to walk toward the room where Danny was finishing up with one of the museum's employees. They'd split up the task of questioning people who'd been in the building when he and his partner had arrived.

As the compact detective dismissed the last of those who'd been detained, he looked up and immediately became concerned. "Steve," he exclaimed, "You really need to get off your feet. You look like you're going to drop dead at any minute."

"Yeah, kinda feel that way too. Maybe it's a good idea to call it quits." agreed the man who looked more than a little wobbly, "Drive us back to H.Q. We're done here for now."

Steve had agreed to leave and hadn't even bothered to put up a fight. Danny's concern immediately ramped up. There was no pleasure in the fact that he got to drive his own car as he watched Steve slowly fold himself into the passenger seat. The unwell looking man melted into the seat before immediately straightening to rub at his lower back. "Oh man," he groaned, "My back is killing me!"

"Steve, I really need to get you home 'cause resembling something found at the bottom of a landfill is not good."

"Nah, I've got work to do. Just get us to the Palace Danny."

"Steve . . ."

"Not arguing with you. I'll be fine after I rest a bit. Just drive before I throw you out of the car and drive there myself." threatened Steve; temper growing ever shorter.

"Fine", said the detective through gritted teeth before asking, "When you finally drop dead because of your own stubbornness, you want to be buried or cremated?"

….

By the time they'd returned to headquarters, Chin had called to say he had a lead on a possible buyer for the stolen paintings. Steve told him to meet them at H.Q. where they could go over what he'd learned.

When they arrived at the palace, Steve immediately went to his office and closed the door. He looked at the message on his cell and took a deep breath. He hit the call button and waited for Dr. Farina to pick-up.

…

The good thing about glass walls is that they let in a lot of light. The bad is that you can't really hide unless you shut your blinds. And if you do, it immediately alerts others that you may actually _have_ something to hide.

Steve could practically feel their eyes boring into him. He knew it wouldn't be long before someone would be in here.

Danny had apparently drawn the short straw. "Hey" he said as he pushed open the glass door.

"If you saw a welcome mat out there, it's only for looks, Danny." said Steve tiredly

"Funny." said the compact man as he parked his butt in one of the chairs in front of his partner's desk.

"What is it that you want?" asked Steve

"I want you to talk to me."

"Don't you have a report to write or ties to knit or something?"

"Knitted ties went out of fashion about thirty years ago, babe. Get with the program."

"I suppose you would know, being the fashion icon you consider yourself to be." snorted Steve

"I know that having been in the military most of your adult life, you didn't have to worry about anything sartorial other than buzzing off your hair if it grew over an eighth of an inch long but there are some of us who like to look nice Steven."

"You saying I don't look nice?" asked the SEAL, wanting to put off this conversation as long as he could.

" _Nice_ isn't really a word I'd use to describe you, no; _efficient_ maybe or _lethal_ but definitely not _nice_.

"Just tell me what you want before I have to physically throw you out the door." said Steve in an exasperated near growl

"I want to know what you learned from your doctors." said Danny, clear blue eyes fixed unflinchingly on hazel blue ones.

"How do you know I even heard from them?" countered Steve

"Hello, in case we haven't met, I'm a detective." snorted Danny, "I heard your phone go off. You looked at the screen then put it back in your pocket which meant you didn't want to answer it in front of me."

Steve sat silently and stone faced as his partner went on.

"Then, as soon as we got here you, you went into your office and closed the door. I saw you place a call and speak to someone for at least fifteen minutes. You didn't smile and your face wasn't animated as it would have been if you'd called your sister or one of your crazy-assed SEAL buddies."

"And you call me nosy." said Steve

"So I put the clues together. You either had to be calling a phone sex hotline, which I know you are too cheap to do, or you were talking to your doctor."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair as he silently regarded the man who sat waiting for an answer.

"So, tell me. Was I right? Have I still got it?" asked Danny with a ghost of a smile.

Too tired to play the game any longer Steve sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. _Time to get it over with._

He'd just opened his mouth to begin when he suddenly looked alarmed and sat up straighter. "Dammit!" he muttered

Danny frowned as he watched Steve lean forward and pinch his nostrils together with one hand while he opened his desk drawer with the other and pulled out a handful of Kleenex.

"Your nose is _still_ bleeding?" asked Danny, "That's not right." he exclaimed

"Well that's one of the symptoms." said Steve tiredly as he sniffed and pulled the tissue away experimentally. There was still a slight trickle so he pressed it back into place. He'd forgotten where he put the Celox.

"Symptoms of what?" asked Danny, eyes narrowing and heart rate suddenly quickening. He didn't want to admit it, but he recalled that frequent nosebleeds are one of several symptoms of leukemia . . . and Steve had pretty much all of them.

"I've got a tentative diagnosis of aplastic anemia." said Steve

"Plastic what?" asked Danny not sure if he should be relieved or not.

"Aplastic not plastic." corrected Steve with a slight smile though this was not in the least funny. "You remember, D. It was one of the things the doctors said they'd be checking for. They said it isn't always fatal."

"Not always . . ." repeated Danny, voice trailing off; heart feeling as if it had ceased its hammering and had just stopped cold.

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 **There you have it. I know I'll be totally embarrassed when reading what I'd posted and will no doubt be sneaking back to make corrections.**

 **Not establishing a deadline for the next update. That only seems to get me into trouble. Will try very, very, hard to post the next chapter within a week.**

 **Lots more hurt as well as comfort to come. Please let me know what you think of it so far.**


	7. Boxes Marked S or M

Chapter 7

 **Here's a nice long one. Despite husband's and not-so-ninja cat's efforts to keep me from my appointed rounds, I managed to sneak off to work on this chapter. Many changes were made after SPNGran betaed it so whatever errors remain belong to Imaginary Beta who, as you know, is only faking it as a proof reader.**

 **I think I've gotten back to everyone to thank them for their comments but if I haven't, I apologize.**

 **Disclaimer: Would much rather do something I love, (like this) and not get paid for it, (like this), than spend time making money at something only tolerable. It's not a practical way to live but at least at '** **the home' they'll feed me and I may actually have a padded room all to myself.**

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Boxes Marked S or M

He lay on the bunk, trying to doze as the sounds of the incarcerated surround him and echo off the concrete walls. Some things never change. Men call out from their cells; some in drugged or drunken rambling, some in challenge or greeting to those recognized from outside or inside their barred and hopefully temporary residence. Adding to the cacophony were the wolf-whistles directed at those considered attractive. He'd even gotten a couple himself. Though it meant he had to be more vigilant while here, it was nice to be thought attractive, even if it was by some guy named Big Momo who harbored unwanted affections.

There were other noises as well. Cell doors are usually operated electronically these days but there's still that final metallic clang when they slide closed. The sound is familiar to the man once again unfortunate enough to be housed courtesy of the great State of Hawaii. A small moment of panic caused his heart to beat faster before he could calm himself.

 _When the hell is the boss going to bail me out of here?_

….

It had been a nice reunion yesterday though she'd been disappointed she hadn't been able to see Steve and Danny.

Kono and Chin had driven her to the hotel and as they sat in the car discussing plans for a get together later that evening, her former teammates had gotten a call. Something had happened at the State Museum.

She stood at the curb, luggage at her feet, and looked longingly at the retreating vehicle. She really missed it; the rush of speeding toward the scene of their latest case. After a moment she sighed and turned to walk into the hotel's lobby.

In the ride up to the sixth floor, she stared at her reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator and thought of the choice she'd been forced to make. There was no going back. If only she hadn't become so attached to her teammates; their leader in particular.

McGarrett had never given any indication there was anything other than friendship between them. He'd maybe flirted a bit but, upon analyzing it, he'd been no more flirtatious than Danny or most of the other guys she'd encountered while here. Just a normal, healthy, 'guy thing' she supposed.

Sadly, _healthy_ isn't a word she'd use right now to describe the handsome object of her unrequited longing. The guy looked like crap. She hoped it was only because he was overworked but somehow she didn't think so.

She crossed the nicely appointed room to open the sliding glass door and let in the breeze off the ocean. Several floors below, the water sparkled as the sky was just starting to gather itself in preparation for a spectacular sunset.

She'd picked a nice hotel offering soothing décor, premium mattresses, and Wi-Fi; maybe she'd just stay in for the night. It would only be depressing to go to the hotel's lounge by herself to be hit-on by some drunken tourist.

Shedding her travel clothes for sleep shorts and a tank top, Lori plopped onto the bed, and grabbed the TV remote. Clicking on a local station, she heard _. . . 'at the museum are reeling from the theft of'. ._ _. ._ Turning up the sound, she listened intently as a reporter with impossibly perfect hair did a stand-up from the steps of the State Museum. The report entailed what is known, (essentially nothing), about the perpetrators of a major art theft.

 _Denning's gotta be having a cow right now,_ she thought as the plastic-haired newscaster paused to press his earpiece more tightly into his ear while nodding his head in acknowledgement of information given by an unseen informant.

 _Actually, he's probably having an entire flippin' herd of 'em!_ she amended when the estimated worth of the stolen paintings was dramatically announced.

"Maybe it's a good thing I don't work for Five-0 right now", she muttered to herself as she picked up the phone to call for room service.

…

"So, the guy's pretty much just your everyday lowlife petty criminal." said Danny as he flipped through the thick sheaf of papers Chin had printed after a brief search of the AFIS data base. "He's been in jail before but not for anything too momentous: some burglaries, a couple counts of grand theft auto, a couple run-ins as a juvenile. There's something here about an assault charge but he was actually the victim. I guess his mom packed quite a wallop."

"He charged his mother with assault?!" asked Steve in astonishment as he paused in handing over his SIG to the guy behind the sign-in desk to turn toward the blonde.

"Yeah, I guess you're not the only one with a mother who thinks kicking ass is more fun than baking snickerdoodles."

"Hey!" said Steve in defense of Doris; (though he wasn't sure why).

"Turns out he dropped the charges; probably because his mother only broke his nose. And considering that _your_ mother would surely have broken something more major, like maybe a leg or two; Doris probably retains her title as the most badassed mommy in the land."

At the look the tall man gave him, Danny decided maybe it's a good idea to abandon the current topic of conversation.

"Anyway, the guy's not much of a major player in the world of crime." concluded the detective as Steve continued to glare at him for another moment before getting back to the task at hand.

"So no history that would indicate he's any sort of pedophile then?" asked Steve as he signed his name to the log.

"Not a thing." said Danny, as he handed his gun to the now impatient looking HPD clerk and then quickly scribbled his name on the clipboard pushed toward him.

Wolf whistles and cat calls followed them all the way down the corridor as they walked toward the cell that contained one Robert T. Hubbard.

"Hey Blondie!" called a male voice. "Comere! I'll show you what we can do with those cuffs you've got on your belt!"

The statement, of course, triggered even more comments; not all of them complimentary. "McGarrett! You asshole! When I get out of here . . ."

It wasn't anything they hadn't heard before when visiting the county lock-up. One angry voice would fade as others replaced it. "Fuckin' haole . . . , "Hey cutie, why don't you . . ." and so on.

Bob looked up when something blocked the light coming from the hallway to find that a tall man and a shorter one accompanied by one of the jailors had stopped in front of his cell. _Shit! Those guys again!_

The door was opened and he was led to a standard looking interrogation room containing a couple of sturdy chairs, a metal table with a bar for the attachment of handcuffs, one-way mirrors, video cameras, etc.

 _At least this one isn't like that dungeon at Five-0's headquarters. That place was creepy!_ thought Bob as he was pushed into a chair and the taller of the two cops took a seat on the other side of the table. They didn't even bother to handcuff him to it.

"So, your jacket says you've been in and out of jail for most of your life." said Steve, pinning their non-reactive suspect with a cold stare.

"Well, ya know, I kinda miss the food sometimes. Those grey hamburger patties and wallpaper paste mashed potatoes are just like mom used to make."

It was a joke but that glop is like the stuff his mother used to make. The woman was good with a frying pan but it wasn't because of any culinary skill. It still stung to think of that time she'd whacked him in the face with one when she'd found out he stole the last of her cigarette money from her purse. _Jeeze,_ how was he to know she'd run out of Marlboros?

Bob stared back nonchalantly from his chair in HPD's interrogation room. The shrimpy blonde guy stared at him from the corner of the room where he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. From the look on his face, maybe he should be glad it was the tall guy that was doing the questioning.

Bob shifted a bit in his chair. Actually, the cop whose name he'd learned is McGarrett, didn't really look all that intimidating right now. Bob smirked as he took in the bruises, hollow eyes, and pale complexion. _The guy looks like crap. Maybe I kicked him even harder than I thought._

"What do you have to do with stashing the boy with relatives on Lanai? We know that someone paid them off to say nothing about it."

"Never met the kid or his relatives." calmly stated their prisoner who then added, "You know, you really should take a break. You look like shit."

….

Lou Grover looked up to greet her as soon as she walked in the door. He and the man whose back was toward her, had been discussing something they were looking at on Chin's beloved smart table.

Eyes twinkling, Grover said, "So, I take it you're a secret masochist and have come back for more?"

Chin turned toward her; a smile creasing his smooth face. "Hey, Lori," he greeted, then turning back to Grover he said, "I wouldn't talk. You knew that masochism is a prerequisite for anyone working for Five-0 and you signed up anyway."

"Yeah, as I recall, there's a check box for that on the employment form you fill out when you're hired." said Lou gravely

"Yeah, I remember," said Chin, going along with the thread, "You have to check the 'M' box or the 'S' box."

". . . and you checked?" asked Lori, as she looked up at the big man; her eyebrows raised in question.

"The 'M' box of course." answered Grover, "McGarrett lured me with that closet full of whips and chains he's got. You know; the one that's right next to the ammo locker."

Lori rolled eyes. "Seems to me, Steve is more on the M side than the S no matter what he pretends. I've never met anyone so willing to put himself in the line of fire to keep everyone safe."

"You got that right, sista." said Kono as she walked up to them holding two steaming cups. She handed one to Lori and took a sip from the other.

Taking a swallow, the profiler crinkled her nose. "Is Steve still making the coffee?"

"Nah, that was me." said Lou, "He did teach me how to make it though."

"You were um . . . a good student." said Lori

"Danny actually refuses to drink it when Lou or Steve makes a pot." smiled Chin, "He doesn't take any chances. In the mornings he usually brings his own from the drive-through down the street."

"So, where is the dynamic duo?" asked the profiler looking toward their empty offices.

"They're at HPD questioning the guy we captured at the fairgrounds. They should be back any minute now." answered Chin

"I'll be glad to finally see them. This is my second visit here without meeting up." said Lori venturing another swallow of the liquid in her cup.

"Yeah, well, just know they haven't changed. They're just as happily married as they ever were." said Chin

"And ain't it a thing of beauty." beamed Grover

….

"Even the friggin' suspect says you look bad!" said/yelled Danny, his hands doing their usual dance of emphasis.

The interview had gone on for over an hour; their suspect giving up nothing regarding his alleged stalking of minors or the _maybe_ abduction of and subsequent stashing of the kid with his aunt and uncle on Lanai.

Finally, they'd given up . . . for now. Earlier, the suspect had been arraigned and charged with trespass, evading arrest, and assault against a law enforcement officer(s). So far, they hadn't come up with any solid evidence that he'd been the one stalking the kids or that he'd had anything to do with the abduction of the boy. There was certainly a very strong resemblance to the description given by eyewitnesses but that isn't always the most reliable information. The white van hadn't even been located yet.

They couldn't hold the guy much longer. Their suspect had actually bragged that someone would soon be showing up to bail him out. When they'd asked him who that is, he'd only smiled at them.

As they walked toward the Camaro to go back to H.Q., Danny had been observing his partner's less than easy gait that was nothing like his usual quick and confident stride.

"Steve, just slow down woudja." griped the blonde

"Danny, if we walk any slower, the guys that maintain the parking lot are gonna paint stripes over us."

"That's not what I mean you brain damaged moron!" responded his partner in exasperation, "You look even worse than yesterday - if that's even possible. If you don't take it easy . . . no, you know what? Just go ahead and finish exhausting yourself so you can fall over. Then at least I can call an ambulance to get you back to the hospital!"

"Look, there's nothing to be done until the next round of tests confirm the diagnosis!" responded the man whose growl revealed his own exasperation.

"So, when exactly are you going to Queens?" demanded Danny. "I know you can barely walk right now and I already told you I'm not carryin' your ass. Enough already! Just stop!"

Steve, not interrupting his stride, replied in a tired voice, "Still got a couple more things to take care of."

"Steve, dammit . . ."

"The tests aren't scheduled until tomorrow, Danny. One of them, the bone marrow biopsy, is gonna put me in the hospital for a few hours or maybe even an entire day so I've gotta finish as much as I can before then."

Anger suddenly gone and only concern registering in his voice, the detective asked, "So, is this going to confirm that you have aplastic anemia?"

"Should."

"Do they know what causes it? Is it genetic or . . . ?"

"It could be several different things but the doctors _and I_ think it's probably a result of whatever drugs Wo Fat had that witch give me." said Steve as they reached the car and he waited on the passenger side for Danny to unlock the doors.

Becoming agitated once more, Danny railed, "Even though he's worm food, you still can't get away from him! If I could, I'd dig that motherfucker up and kill him all over again!"

"If I felt any better, I'd help you." smiled Steve tiredly

Worry and distress obvious in his expression, his partner stood silently studying him over the top of the car. Even his hands were still.

"Look, Danny, it is what it is." said Steve resignedly.

"Yeah, well, what 'it is _'_ friggin' sucks!" responded his friend

"Can't say I disagree with you on this one, D."

…..

 _Sheesh. That bitch from Five-0 wouldn't give up. It's like dealing with the friggin' Mafia!_ thought the teamster as he poked through his tool box to select the right size socket to fit over the bolts holding the crate together. It didn't hurt to double check. If the lid came loose on one of these babies it would blow the whole shebang. _At least this time I don't have to worry about winding up at the bottom of Lake Michigan with an anchor tied to my feet!_

Leaving the convention center in Chicago was the best move he'd ever made. Sure, it's incredibly expensive to live in Hawaii but at least he doesn't have to dig his car out of the snow to get to work, (or worry that someone's planted a bomb under it). How was he to know that his fellow union members were that cozy with the mob? Boy, he'd never horn-in on anyone's action ever again. Definitely not worth it!

Anyway, he can't say he regretted hot-footing it out of Chicago. Besides being warmer here, the scenery is so much better.

 _You can't really see much skin if the broads are wearing thermal underwear, insulated snow pants and hooded parkas. Here, they hardly wear anything at all! There's friggin' acres of tanned, oiled, skin to look at!_

Yeah, definitely better here.

The teamster set down his ratchet and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through his contact list and brought up the number for the guy at the harbor. These 'special' crates are scheduled to be in the first wave of shipments after the teardown when the show is over. He was just double checking the arrangements. He wanted to do a good job. That weird guy is paying him a lot of money to make sure this goes right.

Actually, this had been easier than he'd thought it would be. The tunnel to the building next door worked like a charm. Maybe he could utilize it again somehow? There's gonna be a big electronics show next month. Smuggling out crates of stolen samples shouldn't be all that hard. Maybe he could work a deal with the guy at the museum? Little did the state bean counters know that when they forced the architects to save money by combining the loading docks of the museum and the new convention center that it would work out so well. Yup, it worked out just fine for several people.

After a brief conversation, the call was ended and he dropped the phone back into his pocket. The teamster hummed happily as he slapped an extra shipping label on the side of the crate designed to look like thousands of others in the subterranean storage area. This is gonna be even better than the gig at McCormick Place. Certainly a safer one!

Sweet.

….

He was miserable. His limbs felt like lead and his head ached. But, right now, what bothered him most is the pain in his lower back. He suspected it had to do with getting kicked in the kidneys. He hadn't noticed any blood before having to give a urine sample yesterday but it seemed to be getting worse - definitely not a good sign.

He couldn't stop now though. Denning was on everyone's ass about the museum theft; reminding them once again that they'd _all_ be out of jobs if the paintings weren't recovered.

Robert Hubbard, aka 'Bob' as he preferred to be called, wasn't budging on his stance that he knew absolutely nothing about any missing kid who wasn't even missing. There was more questioning to be done before the idiot got released and they had to go looking for him again. Duke would contact Five-0 as soon as anyone shows up with bail.

They still had to get to Lanai to talk to the ten-year-old's aunt and uncle. There was definitely something that didn't add up there. He'd have Chin and Kono handle it. No way could he get on a plane right now.

When he pushed open the door, he saw Lori Weston standing at the smart table with the other three members of his team.

"Hey, Weston." he greeted, managing to muster a tired smile. He really is glad to see her again but it was pretty much all he could do to stay upright at the moment.

"Good to see you Lori!" exclaimed Danny coming forward with his arms held wide for a hug.

"Good to _finally_ see you guys too!" smiled the profiler, her smile faltering when she got a look at her former boss. _What the hell? The guy looks like the walking dead!_

Steve looked far different from the man who'd hugged her goodbye three years ago. Rather than tan, he looked nearly grey. The shadows under his eyes and the bruises decorating the side of his face nearly matched.

She took a step forward to throw her arms tightly around him as he stiffly returned her embrace. She couldn't tell if he was just uncomfortable showing affection or something else. He looked like he'd lost weight and now, with her hands pressed against his back, she could feel he was even thinner than when he'd been recovering from his adventure in North Korea. Something's wrong.

"So, you couldn't get enough of us, huh?" Steve smiled down at her, his grin still capable of causing that strange flicker of heat within.

Clearing her suddenly constricted throat she replied, "Yeah, apparently so. Guess I can't disagree with Captain Grover who says I'm very likely a closet masochist."

"We are an equal opportunity employer. It's pretty much a given that if you work here you are part of an unfortunate minority that thrives on bone-crushing, soul-killing exhaustion and you freakily enjoy pain. Ergo you are certifiably nuts and of course fit right in with the rest of us." smiled Danny

"Hey," said Five-0's leader, "It's not that bad here!"

Four people looked back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Well, I'm not that hard to work for." said Steve defensively, crossing his arms over his chest.

For a long moment, four people seemed to be considering that statement.

Steve rolled his eyes, (not a good idea as it triggered a wave of dizziness). He managed to smile and say, "I'll have to catch up to you later Lori. Maybe we can all meet at Side Street for burgers and beer. I've gotta go take care of a couple of things." With that, he put his hand on Danny's shoulder and said, "I need to talk to you in my office for a minute, Daniel."

"Yeah sure." said Danny, a bit mystified before the two walked toward Steve's office with the SEAL's hand still on his shoulder. Startled, he realized it was as before; his friend needed him for support to walk without falling over.

They made it the few feet to Steve's office and closed the door behind them. Letting go of his friend's shoulder, Steve wobbled toward his desk then plopped heavily into the chair behind it.

"Steven, I'm not kidding. You really need to get your ass to the doctor!" exclaimed Danny as he sat in one of the chairs facing the desk.

"I know, I know." tiredly acknowledged his friend. "I talked to the hematologist about coming in for a transfusion."

"A transfusion?" echoed Danny, his stomach tightening.

"Yeah, they put a rush on those tests and the results showed that, along with being short on red blood cells, I'm also low on white cells and platelets. That's a pretty definite sign of what they suspect." said Steve running a hand over his face in exhaustion.

"Let's go then." said Danny, standing and pulling his keys out of his pocket.

"Not yet. It can wait until tomorrow. Besides, Chin came up with a name I have to check into. Seems there's at least one person who has interest in, and can actually afford to buy, those stolen paintings. I'm just waiting for a callback from someone I know. I promise I'll go home after."

When Danny opened his mouth; no doubt to blast him for being a stubborn jackass and not taking care of himself, Steve held up his hand to stop the imminent tidal wave of words.

"There's one more test to confirm the diagnosis. It's scheduled for tomorrow morning. After it's over, I'm going to get transfused. They said it was probably a good idea to do it then since the bone marrow biopsy may cause a little bleeding."

"Are you trying to bullshit me, Steven?" asked Danny as he leaned a hip on the corner of the desk and, crossing his arms, stared at his friend in skeptical evaluation. "The transfusion can really wait until tomorrow? You're not just pulling your usual crap of telling me what I want to hear, then going merrily along with whatever idiocy you've got planned?"

Danny was practically daring him to lie. Steve looked his caring friend in the eye and replied, "They said unless I was bleeding it wasn't necessarily an emergency. When I asked if it could wait until tomorrow, they said okay."

"You mean after you lied about how crappy you actually feel or after you threatened them with a grenade?"

Steve only smiled.

….

Barely waiting for her former boss's door to swing shut, Lori asked, "What's wrong with Steve? He looks awful!"

"We've all been working nearly twenty-four-seven" said Chin, "and Steve's been putting in more time than any of us. Plus, he managed to wind up in the hospital yesterday."

"What? How?" asked Lori alarmed by the news.

"Kono didn't tell you? Our fearless leader decided it was a good idea to leap off a roof like the world's most un-aerodynamic flying squirrel and drop onto our suspect before the assho. . . jerk could make it out the back gate at the fair." said Grover

Shaking her head from side to side, Lori asked, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Yeah, no matter what he thinks, he can't fly and he doesn't bounce all that well." replied Lou

"It didn't help that the guy managed to get in a couple good kicks. You noticed the bruises, right?" said Kono

"How could I miss them?" Lori, "He looks pretty rugged."

Danny had left Steve's office and walked up to rejoin them saying, "Sorry, about the interruption but Steve needed my invaluable advice." Turning to address Lori he said, "It's really nice to have you back, even if it's only for a vacation."

"Nice to be back. I hope I can stay here long enough to get the ice crystals out of my blood."

Danny inwardly flinched at the mention of the word 'blood'.

"A little time on the beach should take care of that." said Kono, "You know, I never did have time to teach you how to surf."

"Don't listen to Kalakaua." cautioned the blonde detective, "It's a trap. She's always trying to get us into the water. I think she and the sharks are in cahoots."

"So," said Lori, abruptly changing the subject, "What's wrong with Steve? Why does he look like the walking dead?"

All turned toward Danny expectantly.

"Why are you looking at me!?" asked the detective, holding his hands up defensively before him.

"Because you are the official Steve wrangler and his best friend." said Kono brows remaining quirked as she waited for an answer.

"Yeah, married couples normally know each other's health issues." said Grover as he stared down at the compact blonde.

Chin said nothing, he didn't have to. His stoic expression was enough. Danny had no idea how the man's face didn't seem to move a muscle yet it felt as though he was tied to a chair under an eight-hundred watt floodlight with someone standing in the shadows waiting to beat him with a rubber hose.

"Look", said Danny, "When Steve wants you guys to know anything, _he_ will tell you."

"So you're saying something _is_ wrong then." said Lori

Danny, lips compressed into a line, looked stonily back at her.

"Let's go! We've got a situation!" they heard behind them as Steve burst out of his office and jogged toward the gun cabinet. "Grab some extra clips! Sounds like we might need 'em!"

Without question, they quickly scattered to gather their equipment and then follow him out the door.

Lori hesitated only a second before saying, "I'm going with! I'll ride with Kono!" and rushed out behind her former teammates.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **I hope you liked this chapter and that it actually made sense. Believe me, it was a struggle. Would love to hear what you thought of it and, if you didn't think all that much of it, let me know why. I'm not self-destructive this week.**


	8. Still Ambulatory

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 8

 **I know that this took longer than usual to post and I have no reason for it other than real life managing to have its way with me again. For the last few days, the only way possible to find time to write would have been to fake my death, (like McG's psycho mommy).**

 **The oh-so-fabulous SPNGran was pestered into a ninety-mile-per-hour proof job. I now plan to hound her until she posts that story of her own.**

 **Disclaimer: If I got paid for this I'd ship my writing buddy, Not-So-Ninja-Cat, off to feline fat camp. She's beginning to look alarmingly like a football with fur and I don't think my laptop's keyboard will be able to withstand another of her nap attacks.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Still Ambulatory

Above the tops of the multi-storied buildings on either side of the street, the sky is a bright hard blue. With nary a cloud to obscure the fierce light of midday, they're all beginning to feel like strips of bacon sizzling on an asphalt griddle.

For the last thirty minutes the Governor's special task force, along with HPD, had been crouched behind whatever offered cover from the shooter holed-up in the ground floor suite of offices on the other side of the street. From initial reports, they'd been expecting to find a major gun battle in progress but only a few random and inaccurate shots had been fired from inside the building. Because of the hostages there'd been no return fire from those massed outside on the overheated pavement.

As sweat rolled down the back of her neck Agent Lori Weston idly wondered what the temperature in DC is right now. _I guess we should be careful what we wish for,_ she thought.

Under her borrowed tac vest, drops of perspiration slipped between her shoulder blades to trickle along her spine before gathering at the small of her back. In addition, her thighs were beginning to protest having to maintain a less than comfortable position but the asphalt was too hot to kneel on.

From reports of those who'd been able to escape, the shooter had burst in with what was described as a 'really big gun' and immediately opened fire. Caught standing near the reception desk the only known victim never had a chance to run before he'd shot her.

Besides being against law of God and man, storming into a busy office to snuff your ex in front of twenty-odd witnesses is stupid and/or just plain crazy. Unfortunately for his captives and those whose job it is to put a stop to this murderous activity, the guy still had enough of his marbles left to stay out of the line of fire.

Now, with at least eight people held hostage and the one holding them obviously unstable, the need to end this sooner rather than later is paramount.

After attempting every technique he knew, Sergeant Chang, HPD's official hostage negotiator, had failed to persuade the shooter to let his captives go. Minutes dragged on without the perpetrator, (identified as one Gavin McAvoy), giving indication of any intent to surrender. Try as they might, no one had yet been able to get a bead on McAvoy to take him out with a precise shot if needed

So far, there'd been no opportunity to remedy the situation, (one way or another). The only one visible to those outside is the red-haired, scared shitless woman pressed against the front window; gold leaf lettering above her head proclaiming the law offices of Snodgrass, Jensen, and Pualoa.

According to those who'd managed to make it out the back exit, the gunman's former paramour is lying dead behind the front desk. There's the possibility Janice Pualoa could still be alive but no one has been able to get close enough to check. Her jilted lover held steadfast in his refusal to let anyone in or out.

From their vantage points outside all that anyone could see of the victim is a single patent leather pump in the middle of the dark stain that trailed from behind the reception desk. It didn't look good for Ms. Pualoa.

Lori turned her head to the right where her former teammates were likewise crouched. Danny appears to be as riveted as his partner; but not quite. She could see the detective's occasional sideways glances to check on the man next to him.

With his near legendary focus, Steve has kept his gun trained unwaveringly on the front window while he waited for a clear shot. Even though his weapon is a SIG rather than a rifle, there is no doubt that if he chose to take it, the shot would count. As a matter of fact, every one of her former teammates is a good marksman, (Grover being the only unknown), but Steve is scary good. His sniper protégé had been trained by the best and, right now, Kono is stationed on a roof across the street; the barrel of her SR25 braced against the parapet and a dark eye sighting through its scope.

Nuuanu Avenue had been cordoned off at both ends between King and Beretania. The street is like a tightly sealed container; no sound or even stirring of air disturbs contents thickened with heat and tension.

They waited.

…

With a loud whir, the forks of the electric lift extended outward then lowered to slide under the crate. With a higher pitched whir it hoisted the gigantic wooden box then reversed and turned around to carry it toward its destination.

 _Huh, these are awfully heavy for being empty_ , thought the forklift driver as he checked the digital weight gauge mounted on the instrument panel. _Whatever. They're going on the bottom of the pile anyway._

Most of the crates sent down to the cavernous storage area below the convention hall are pretty much empty and weigh relatively little. Storing one that's this heavy is kind of odd but being only a worker bee it isn't his to question. He's not high enough in the hierarchy to care.

Still, he'd always thought it's too bad the exhibitors who arrive early and are industrious enough to set-up their booths first are actually kind of screwed. The first-in last-out truism applies not just here at Loulea, but at pretty much every large convention center.

Like an overstuffed closet, the empty crates are packed into the cavernous room back-to-front. The first arrivals are the last ones to be retrieved and taken back upstairs after the show is over. The crews dismantling the display booths may have to wait hours for their crates to be returned so they can be packed and labeled to ship back to their home bases or to the next trade show.

That dickhead teamster – _the new guy_ – had ordered him to set these aside so they could be in the first-out group. But no matter what the jerk thinks, he's not the crew boss. Actually, rumor has it that he's on the lam after trying to rip-off the long established chain of thievery at the convention center in Chicago.

 _It's too bad he's not here right now_ , thought the worker bee; smirking as he set the crates down against the back wall before steering his forklift back to the elevator platform to get others to stack in front of them.

….

 _Come on . . . just a fraction more to the right and I can put one in your head . . ._

He knew that some people, his partner included, would be taken aback by this dark solicitation but the man has murdered an innocent and may yet murder others. If McAvoy can't be persuaded to give up his hostages the situation must be resolved by whatever method necessary; no matter the moral ambiguity of the solution.

Steve chastised himself for letting his mind drift. It isn't helping; and though his hands remain steady, his eyesight is becoming ever more unreliable. Images shifted and wavered in the heat radiating off the blacktop and the concrete walkway beyond. He blinked again to clear his vision. _Just a little more, just a little . . ._

"No clear shot." came Kono's voice over the comlink.

"Roger that." he replied. He felt bad that Kono had to be the one up on that tarpaper roof; it's got to be broiling up there but Kono is his best sniper; every bit as good as anyone he'd ever trained.

Actually, it may be almost as hot here in the middle of the street where he and Danny had taken cover behind a haphazardly parked squad car but he didn't feel it. The asphalt is hot enough to be almost gummy beneath his feet but he's strangely chilled and it's beginning to take some effort not to shiver.

Even without taking his eyes off the window he knew Danny had been sneaking glances at him. His partner is no doubt watching for signs of imminent _whatever_ but, right now, his own well-being is neither here nor there. His job is to make sure that those eight people make it home for dinner tonight.

"Shit!" Danny swore under his breath as a drop of sweat ran into his left eye. Not releasing his two-handed grip on his gun, he tilted his head to wipe it away against his upper arm. _The fucker kills his girlfriend in front of thirty people then thinks he's going to escape? It's stuff like this that makes me want to send Gracie off to a nunnery until she's like ninety and too old to have boyfriends - or at least any that are still ambulatory._

Steve almost smiled as he heard his partner muttering something about sending his daughter to a nunnery. Considering the example set by the victim's seriously unglued boyfriend; that might not be a bad idea.

 _Thank God there's only the one fatality_ , thought Five-0's commander as he kept his eyes trained on the window, (the one with the hostage plastered against it). He didn't complete the thought by adding the words _'so far'_. He's going to do everything within his power to make sure he doesn't have to.

From what they'd learned right after they'd arrived, the victim is Janice Pualoa, a partner in the law firm. Her full name is on the shiny brass plaque amid a tangle of huapala vines clinging to the brick façade next to the doorway.

"Kono, what's the sitrep?" he asked via comlink as Danny snorted beside him, ('sitrep' being another word Danny despises, along with 'classified').

"No shot yet, boss. He's gotta come closer to the window."

Steve acknowledged her then advised the others, "Everyone hold your positions."

There's no way the gunman could escape. He had to know that and it made him infinitely more dangerous. He's already killed someone so he has nothing to lose . . . and he's fucking crazy.

….

Martin Shaftbottom sighed tiredly as he hung up with Sand-N-Surf Bail Bonds. He really didn't want to involve anyone else in this operation. Why did that idiot have to get caught?

He should have gotten rid of Bob ages ago but he has such a good work ethic - a quality that seems to be getting rarer and rarer these days. Sure, the guy probably has the I.Q. of a philodendron but he'd been a good choice to be one of the trio terrorizing the island's population and distracting its police force. Besides, his informants told him that Bob had put a dent in their ranks by taking McGarrett out of commission, even if only temporarily.

From what he'd learned when he'd done the research for this operation, Five-0 is quite formidable, it's leader in particular. Having him out of the way will it make it that much easier to accomplish his goal of selling this stuff and getting the hell off the island.

That buyer had better show up at the dock on the day he'd agreed to. If he doesn't, this could have all been for naught.

Oh well, he'd get to hang out a little longer with Madame Trabuc. At least she's quiet.

…..

Suddenly there was movement. The hostage at the window flinched and then turned to disappear somewhere into the recesses of the office. This wasn't good.

After a tense minute, the heavy glass door swung open and the same red haired woman stumbled out, screaming, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Losing her balance she went down to hands and knees on the concrete at the edge of the curb.

The voice that roared through the still open door echoed off the buildings lining the avenue, "EVERYBODY BACK OFF OR I SHOOT HER IN THE HEAD RIGHT NOW!"

This might be it.

"Kono?" asked Steve

"Almost there boss." she replied

"Roger that. Everyone get ready." advised Five-0's leader to his forces.

Then slightly calmer but with frightening menace, the voice said, "Let me introduce you to Kelly, Janice's little friend; the one who told her to drop me! If you don't let me leave here, I'm going to kill her too."

The woman kneeling on the walkway whimpered. With hands pressed to her face she wailed, "Please! Please let him go! He's going to kill me!"

Negotiator Chang trying to keep the strain out of his voice cajoled through his bullhorn, "Gavin, there's no need to harm anyone else, you've taken care of what you felt was needed. Just stand down and we can work this out. No one else has to get hurt, least of all you!"

"Kono?" asked Steve

"Another step." she answered

Chang, still hoping to diffuse the situation coaxed, "Gavin, why don't we sit down and talk this out? You're not a bad guy, we all know that. We know you loved Janice. Maybe she didn't treat you as she should have but she wouldn't want you to . . ."

"FUCK JANICE!" screeched Gavin. "She's dead!" Then with a menacing chuckle he added, "I know 'cause I killed the bitch and now I'm going to kill this one too!

It's a cliché' but a true one; everything seemed to happen in slow motion. With the crack of a rifle the kneeling hostage screamed and the floor-to-ceiling plate glass window exploded behind her.

The gunman; eyes crazed, blood running down the side of his face, appeared at the doorway, both hands on the grip of a large black pistol. Roaring with rage McAvoy pointed it at the screaming woman as Steve, without hesitation, leapt from cover to charge forward; bowling her over then shielding her with his body. Nearly simultaneously a single shot cut through the thick air.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Thank you to those who commented on the previous chapter. Will be replying shortly but thought you'd rather have an update first.**

 **Once again, had to split up a too long chapter into two parts so the next chapter is already written and just needs some fine tuning. More whump coming though not much comfort yet.**

 **Next chapter will be posted on Sunday** **for sure** **.**

 _ **PLEASE**_ **let me know what you thought of this. I'm wearing my tac vest.**


	9. Pained Surprise

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 9

 **Just made the deadline, (at least by Pacific Standard Time). I hope you like it.**

 **Betaed once again by SPNGran. She's a plucky sort.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't get paid for this. I do it for the sleep deprivation. It's a cheap high.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Pained Surprise

Time, like an elastic band, stretched until it defeated its tensile strength then, it snapped; its violent recoil leaving death in its wake.

Kono's second shot had found its mark and was augmented, (unnecessarily), by a fusillade of gunfire from several overstressed members of HPD who'd waited in the heat for far too long.

When gunfire ceased, an eerie silence replaced it and the stench of cordite infiltrated the still air. Steve rolled off the whimpering woman as others rushed forward. Chin, the first to reach the downed killer, pressed his fingers against the man's carotid, (as only a matter of procedure at this point), and shook his head. He called back to the others, "He's history."

Steve lay sprawled on his back, blinking up at the sun and breathing hard as others tended to the woman beside him. His vision wouldn't clear so he closed his eyes against the blurring that seemed to coincide with each beat of his heart.

"Steve!" he heard Lori calling to him.

He had no breath with which to answer. The pain in his back is preventing him from fully expanding his lungs and his heart is pounding erratically like a metronome gone berserk.

"Steven!" came Danny's voice. "You okay? Steve come-on open your eyes!"

Though he knew they were right next to him, their voices sounded oddly far away.

"Open your eyes Steven and look at me!" demanded his partner.

"I think we need to get him an ambulance." he heard Lori say.

"Rambo, open your eyes and let us know how you're doing or we're just gonna scoop your ass up and haul you to the hospital right now!" threatened Danny

"No! Just . . . just gimme a minute. Gotta catch my breath." he gasped to his worried friends.

"You're really something you know that?" he heard Danny say and is aware the words were not necessarily meant as a compliment.

After another minute his breathing and heartrate had begun to slow and he dared to open his eyes again. Blinking several times to only half successfully focus on the faces looking worriedly down at him, he croaked out, "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, everyone but you, the crazy guy, and his ex-girlfriend. They're both dead and _you_ only look that way." answered Grover his large frame providing welcome shade to the man lying on the concrete. "Too bad the poor woman didn't have better luck picking boyfriends or getting rid of one. She probably died before she even hit the floor. McAvoy used a big ass Smith  & Wesson .44; his shot was center mass."

Steve closed his eyes again and nodded. His brain is still trying hard to reconcile the blurred faces above him and nausea is beginning to make an unwelcome return.

"Lou's right, you look like shit; we're taking you to the hospital." announced Danny

"Hospital's tomorrow, D." Steve replied stubbornly

"Steve, you may have cracked your head on the concrete when you and the hostage went down." Lori weighed in, "It really is a good idea to get to the hospital to be checked over".

Danny already knew how this was going to turn out. Voice dripping with sarcasm he turned to the visiting profiler, "Don't waste your breath Weston. We're not supposed to be concerned about Superman here 'cause, you know, bullets just bounce off and the landing on his head thing is just routine for him."

Hearing his partner's comment, Steve opened his eyes to find his vision had improved enough that it might be okay to get up. Lying on overheated pavement isn't the least bit comfortable and even if it's only to shut Danny up he had to get back onto his feet. Extending his arms upward for assistance he growled, "Just help me up dammit."

Muttering under his breath but knowing better than to argue, Danny, with Lou's assistance, grasped him on either side and pulled him upward. It may have been due to leftover adrenaline but it wasn't all that difficult to once again become upright. Remaining that way is going to be more of a challenge. Head now spinning from the change in position he breathed through a wave of nausea. He would not ralph again in front of everyone dammit!

Danny and Lou held onto him until they were certain he was steady enough before they let go; both men shaking their heads at their leader's incredible stubbornness.

Beyond what remained of Gavin McAvoy, Steve could see the hostages filing out the door of the law office. Their faces were strained and some were streaked with tears, but all were no doubt grateful they'd been spared.

"You sure you're alright Steve?" Lori asked of the man who stood observing the parade of freed hostages with a small smile on his face. She'd noted that even though everyone else was flushed with heat and excitement, Steve had remained pale as a corpse and he still seemed to be a bit out of breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks." he assured her before turning toward his partner, "You hear that, Danny? I just said I'm fine. You can lose the 'worried mommy' expression now."

Chuffing in exasperation the detective replied, "If you're so fine, why are you breathing so hard and why is your face the same color as my ass?"

Steve stifled a laugh as he began to dust off his clothes in a display of 'fine', "Please, D, it's just confusing to be given so much ammunition."

"At least he's not the same color as _my_ ass." said Lou Grover, "Now _that_ could indicate a problem."

Before the comedy routine could gather momentum, Kono jogged up with her rifle over her shoulder, slightly breathless herself.

"Man, I blew it." she anxiously exclaimed, "He moved at the last millisecond and I only creased him."

"Don't beat yourself up Kono; shit happens." shrugged her boss, "Despite your skill, not every shot can be perfect every time."

"Yeah, but missing that one could have meant disaster." answered Kono sounding not in the least mollified by her boss' words.

"But you got him with the second one. Good shooting, girl." said Lori hoping to lessen her friend's self-recrimination.

But no matter how much encouragement she received from her team, Kono wasn't to be placated. She'd missed that first shot. If she hadn't hit him with the next round the situation could have gone even further south. She felt really shitty about her failure, and now, looking at Steve, she felt even worse.

…..

It took a couple of hours to tie things up. All of the hostages had been checked over for injuries and only Kelly, the woman Steve had tackled, had to be taken to the hospital. Her injuries were no more than a couple of scrapes and bruises but she definitely needed some sedation. Steve, of course, refused anything more than a bottle of water and a chance to sit down for a few minutes. He had a headache and his back hurt no less than it had earlier but he did feel better after taking a brief break.

The bodies had finally been carted away for Max to deal with and the Five-0 team said their goodbyes to the uniformed cops who are to stay on site while the crime scene techs finished doing their thing. After the CSI's were done, the fire department would come and hose the blood off the sidewalk.

It was unusual but Denning hadn't called within the last ten minutes to again check on the art theft case.

As they tiredly trooped toward their vehicles, Steve suddenly stopped and turned to the others, "Fuck it." he declared, "Let's take a break. I think we all need one." It was certainly deserved; the rest of his team looked nearly as thrashed as he knew he himself appeared.

Everyone a sweaty mess, they went back to the palace to utilize the showers there to clean up for their delayed dinner at Side Street. Most had extra clothing in lockers and go-bags. Kono produced a pair of yoga pants for Lori to wear and Steve offered her one of the many T-shirts from his stash.

The women got first crack at the showers. Dressed in fresh clothing, they were sitting in Kono's office, catching up with one another while their hair dried and they waited for the guys to finish with their scrub-ups.

There were only three stalls in the shower room so Steve had told the others to get under the water while he went back upstairs to get a shirt for Lou. Though the big man wore a size several times larger than his own, if he remembered correctly, he still had that shirt from years ago when they'd first met Kamekona. Being the thrifty person he is, (or as Danny would say 'a cheap bastard'), he'd never thrown it out.

They'd first met their extra-large entrepreneur/informant years ago when seeking information on a case. Along with his fee, Kamekona had required that he and Danny purchase merchandise, (at a hugely inflated price), in exchange for his information. Then they had to stand like human billboards in front of his shave ice stand while wearing said merchandise – ridiculously over-sized T-shirts - and eating its advertised product. It was funny in retrospect but annoying, not to say embarrassing, at the time. In any case it will be fun to see Lou's expression when he realizes he'll be wearing a shirt with the shave ice/shrimp truck/helicopter tour mogul's face on the front of it.

Sipping from cold bottles of water the two women watched Five-0's leader from a distance as he rummaged through the shirts in a desk drawer.

"How long has he looked like that?" asked Lori gesturing toward her former boss with her water bottle.

Kono looked in the direction her friend indicated and answered with a frown, "For a more than a month I'd guess. We didn't notice at first but it's kinda hard to miss now."

"Yeah, I'd say so." replied Lori. "Do you know the reason for it?"

"Well" began Kono, "After his last run-in with Wo Fat, the one I told you about over the phone, he seemed okay after he recovered from the initial injuries. He was actually back to his usual kick-ass self for a while but then he began to look more and more tired . . . and thinner."

"I can really see a difference from the last time I saw him and from those pictures taken at your wedding." said Lori, concern in her voice.

"Yeah, I guess it didn't help that Catherine split . . . again." said Kono. There was a tinge of anger mixed in with the sadness in her voice.

"What?" exclaimed Lori nearly choking on the sip of water that went down the wrong way.

Kono, looked up at her friend's surprised expression. "Look, I umm . . . I probably shouldn't have said anything about that. It's Steve's business." she apologized

"No worries. I'm just concerned because he looks so bad." assured the profiler though she was keen to know what had happened to make Steve and the love of his life go their separate ways.

"We're all concerned. Danny's been trying to . . ." The conversation was interrupted when, (speak of the devil), Danny walked into her office with Lou and Chin trailing behind.

"Can't say that these two clean up all that well," said Lou, gesturing toward the guys, "But how do you ladies manage to look that good in Steve's cast-offs?"

"I guess I could say the same for you," smiled Lori, "but maybe not quite."

"Sorry, brah", laughed Kono, "Having Kamekona's face on your shirt doesn't necessarily make you _GQ._ material."

"Yeah," said Chin, "With that shirt you'd be more likely to make the cover of _Zoo News_."

"You saying my suave manner and winning smile don't make up for it?" asked Lou turning sideways to strike a cover shot pose: elbow bent, arm and hand positioned as though he held a Beretta pointed upward while, with one eyebrow raised, he looked 'seductively' over his shoulder - classic 007.

"Babe, the only way you'd look GQ in that shirt is if you suddenly morphed into George Clooney while wearing it." said Danny without cracking a smile.

"Hey, now." said Lou as though his feelings had been hurt, "I am Clooney, Denzel, and that other guy all rolled into one."

"What guy?" asked Chin, playing along.

"You know, the one that's gonna be the first black James Bond." said Grover

"Oh yeah, Idris Elba; he's hot!" exclaimed Kono, "That guy's totally got the attitude . . . and the muscles!" she added as Lori enthusiastically nodded in agreement.

"So you two are closet fangirls?" asked Danny with a smirk.

Ignoring the dig, Lori asked, "Speaking of muscles; where's Steve?"

"He's still in the shower. We had to take turns unless he and Danny wanted to share one." said Lou

"Yeah, I'm sure _that_ wouldn't add to the rumors." chuckled Kono

"I already told you guys, I can do better than that goof." said Danny in mock indignation.

The ribbing from his teammates about his and Steve's supposed marriage and people's erroneous assumptions about their relationship is not unfamiliar. Steve, the big doofus, actually gets a kick out of how it drives his partner up the wall.

"You know," deadpanned Chin, "If you guys ever want to renew your vows, my cousin is a really good caterer. You want me to give him a call?"

"Bite me." answered Danny

….

Even with the hot water turned up until it was almost blistering he didn't feel any warmer once he got out of the shower. What is strange is that rather than feeling the chill on his skin, he felt iciness in his core.

In the mirror on the locker room wall, Steve examined the darkening area on his flank just below his ribcage. He hissed in pain as he poked at the bruising before deciding to leave well enough alone. At least the others hadn't seen it.

Suddenly grabbing onto the metal door of his locker, he rode out the latest wave of dizziness. After a moment it passed and he felt okay enough to let go of the support. Despite the earlier activity, he hadn't had a nosebleed since last night. He could still taste blood though. He must have brushed his teeth a little too enthusiastically this morning.

He cinched his belt tighter then tugged his T-shirt back over it. Yup, he couldn't even argue with Danny anymore that he shouldn't be concerned about the weight loss.

Grabbing the rarely used windbreaker hanging in his locker, he donned it then ran a hand through damp hair to get the strands at least all going in the same direction.

Looking up from the bottom of the stairway that led to the first floor, he sighed tiredly then began the climb. Stopping twice to take a breather on his way up the single flight of stairs, he made it to the lobby. Though it bothered him immensely to do so, in concession to his unyielding exhaustion, he took the elevator up to Five-0's offices. Running a hand through his hair once again, he plastered a smile on his face and pushed open the door.

"Hey", he greeted the small group who'd moved to the smart table where they were viewing photos taken at Kono's wedding.

"You guys ready to go get those burgers?" he asked, trying to sound more energetic than he felt.

"Oh, yeah." said Kono, "I know it's a touristy thing to do but I'm going to order one of those birdbath size mai tais."

"An ice-cold beer for me." said Chin, closing his eyes as though picturing a bottle with drops of condensation rolling down its sides.

"And to describe what I want to drink, I'm gonna use the words people usually use to describe me, 'tall and cool', grinned Lou

"Yeah", said Lori with a big smile of her own. "I hear that about you a lot."

"You want to ride there with me and Chin?" asked Kono

"You know, not that I don't appreciate the offer but since we haven't had time to catch up with one another, why don't I ride over with Steve?"

"You mean why doesn't Steve ride with _you_." corrected Danny, "Our fearless leader is even more of a hazard than usual on the streets of Honolulu these last couple days; you'd be taking your life in your hands if you let him drive."

"Oookay" responded Lori looking a bit mystified, "I've got a nice rental to get us there. I popped for the upgrade so my ride is primo. Steve, you want to go with me?"

"Sure. You're a better driver than Danny anyway." said Steve glowering at his overprotective friend.

"Okay children," said Lou, looking from one to the other, "Play nice and maybe I'll get the bartender to put one o' those cute little umbrellas in your Longboards."

….

The ride to Side Street seemed to be over in the blink of an eye. Despite residual queasiness and the possibility of becoming carsick, he enjoyed the company. Lori told him that, though she'd missed Hawaii terribly, she really does like her job back on the mainland. She felt part of something that was making a difference.

A brief shadow crossed over him then. Catherine had pretty much said the same thing about wanting to make a difference. It's a noble thought but it didn't make her departure any less painful. What was also a bit disconcerting is that Lori's 'primo' ride is a Corvette, though a newer model than Cath's.

He was struggling to put that part of his life behind him. It would be relegated to the place where all the other ghosts dwelled. He'd never let himself be that vulnerable ever again.

For now, he'd just enjoy the company. It had been a while since he'd had a conversation with a woman that didn't involve the best way to storm an enemy stronghold or who makes the best tac vest.

Though the pale eyes looking back at him are so unlike Catherine's dark ones, Lori's held something familiar that he couldn't quite get a handle on.

They had to circle the block a couple of times before they lucked-out and found a parking spot just a few doors down from the restaurant.

As soon as he and Lori entered the cool interior of the lively bar, he could hear Lou holding court at a table in the corner.

"Hey!" Danny called out, "You finally made it." He slid his chair over to make room for the two late comers.

"What can we get you Lori?" asked Steve

"We just ordered pitchers of beer and a ton of wings for starters." said Danny, "Oh, yeah, and ginger ale for you."

Steve opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it and nodded resignedly. He really, really, wanted a beer but he wasn't suicidal. His doctors had been adamant he follow the rules that were the condition for allowing their patient to remain out and about. He was to refrain from overwork, avoid strenuous activity, eat, rest, and abstain from anything alcoholic. Well, he could at least get one of the five right.

Their evening contained laughter and reminiscences but ended far sooner than did their usual get-togethers. Everyone was tapped out and it was time to go home. Actually, for the last hour, Steve was having ever more difficulty focusing on the conversation. Though he'd had no alcohol, he felt as though he had. Once again images seemed to shimmer and shift and he blinked in hopes to solidify and anchor them in place.

He closed his eyes against the latest round of lightheadedness and could hear Lori thanking everyone for including her as the sound of chairs bumping and sliding on the wooden floor signaled they were standing to leave.

He opened them again to see Kono leaning down to whisper in concern, "Hey boss, you'd better go home and get some rest. You look really tired."

Kono definitely didn't like the look of the glazed and slightly unfocused eyes looking back at her as Steve acknowledged what she'd said by nodding silently. If she hadn't been sitting at the same table with the man for the past hour and a half; she'd have sworn her boss is three sheets to the wind.

Danny, of course, had noticed his friend looking ever more exhausted with each passing minute and that he'd grown very quiet in the last half hour.

Five-0's leader stood rather unsteadily to say goodbye to the others. "Chin, when you get to work tomorrow could you check on . . . check on . . . umm . . ." His voice trailed off as his expression registered what could best be described as pained surprise.

"Steve?" asked Chin,

"Huh?" responded Five-0's leader looking ever more puzzled as he swayed and grabbed for the back of a chair.

"Steve, what's wrong?" asked Danny already dodging around the table to go to his friend's side.

The object of their concern smiled dazedly back at them; right before he fell over backward.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 _ **Please**_ **review. Next update in about a week.**


	10. Half in Shadow

Chapter 10

 **Here you go. Actually finished this sooner than expected. Thanks to Moonjat54 for playing muse for this chapter. SPNGran, that wonderful sounding board who helps organize chaos into something that makes sense, wasn't available for a final read-through so Cokie316 bravely stepped into the breach. Her lightning fast beta work is the reason this chapter was posted before the next Ice Age.**

 **Disclaimer: Though I don't get paid for this, Not-So-Ninja Cat is expecting payment for her invaluable service as laptop resting place. Thankfully, she works cheap.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Half in Shadow**

He ran his hands through his hair and frowned at the texture. Finally, the last of the brown dye was gone. That hair stripper concoction took the color out but left what felt like straw in its wake. _It's going take gallons of conditioner to fix this_ , he thought sourly.

He didn't mind being a brunette but he much preferred his naturally blonde locks. The wardrobe had been comfy though and he rather liked the way he looked in a baseball cap. It gave him a sort of macho aspect that he didn't have when dressed in his usual attire; no matter how expensive. Still, it's totally beyond him as to why Americans could have such inordinate influence on fashion. These people are slobs! And here in Hawaii, shoes and socks are practically considered formal wear! And those gaudy shirts! Ugh. He'd need a lot of downtime after this is over

His involvement in these capers wasn't usually so hands-on but boredom had lured him into it. It had been quite the rush to tempt the island's gendarmes into actually pursuing him, or who they thought was him. Once hair color had been addressed, he and Bob looked enough alike, especially with the wardrobe and a bit of chin stubble, but finding that third man had been more difficult than planned. He couldn't just call central casting and have them send someone over. Eventually, it had been Bob who'd come up with the name of a former cellmate who fit the bill. Thankfully, the guy's off the island now.

Martin yawned and picked up the phone for room service. The food at this hotel isn't bad but it isn't Le Bristol or even the Pont Royal. He'll be really glad when this is over and he could return to the place he currently calls home. Paris is much more civilized.

Looking again at the room service menu to confirm his choice of entrée, his eyes roved down the page as his lip curled in disdain. _These people are Barbarians! They offer ketchup with everything!_

Oh well, sometimes one must make do.

…

Kono cradled Steve's head in her lap as they waited for the ambulance. His skin is cold and clammy and they hadn't been able to rouse him since he'd gone down.

A few feet away, Danny paced back and forth with a phone to his ear; trying to get hold of one of the doctors they'd met with at the hospital.

"Yeah, thanks." he said to whoever was on the other end of the line. "We'll meet you there. I can hear the ambulance so it shouldn't be long." Ending the call, he slipped the phone into his pocket and knelt on the floor next to his still unconscious partner.

"He's really out, Danny." said Kono worriedly as she stroked Steve's clammy forehead.

"We can't get him to come around at all." said Lori who's kneeling next to her, wanting to take Steve's hand but feeling that it wouldn't be appropriate and she'd just be in the way.

Chin had gone outside to wait in front of the restaurant for the EMT's. Lou had cleared everyone from the section they're in, a large alcove at the back of the restaurant where larger parties were seated. He'd told the manager to issue rainchecks to his diners if necessary and he'd make sure the restaurant was compensated.

Finally, Chin ushered in the medics who immediately got to work as Kono, Danny and Lori got out of their way.

"You guys again!" said Alan Taamu, who set his large red trauma kit on the floor next to the unconscious man. "So, what happened this time?" he asked as he pushed Steve's T-shirt up and pressed a stethoscope to his chest.

"Not so much different from the last." said Danny, "He looked pale and a little disoriented then he just pitched over. I don't think he hit his head or anything but he's been out for at least ten or fifteen minutes."

Taamu listened intently through his ear pieces. He hears a heartbeat that is way too fast and worryingly irregular. "Shit." They hear the medic mutter. Turning to his partner, a gangly young man named Kyle he barks out, "Let's get a line going." Kyle immediately pulled out the supplies to establish an IV.

Pushing Steve's sleeves past his elbows, Taamu muttered, "This won't do." The bruising is too severe at this first choice of a location for the IV catheter. He immediately began to search for another spot he could use to access a vein. Finding one, he slid a needle under the skin of Steve's forearm while the second medic fastened a blood pressure cuff around their patient's bicep. From the frown on Kyle's face, it didn't look as though the BP reading was encouraging.

"What's happening with him?" asked Danny worriedly as he watched the two tending to his unnaturally pale friend.

"His BP's too low and he's really tachy like his heart is trying to make up for lack of volume. We've gotta get him to Queen's." Turning to his partner, Taamu said, "Pack up, we gotta roll."

The other Five-0's watched the detective and the medics lift Steve's limp body onto the gurney then quickly wheel him out the door of the restaurant.

"We'll meet you there, Danny!" called out Kono as they followed the men toward the doorway and out to the street where the ambulance waited. As soon as Steve was lifted into the back and the gurney's wheels were locked into the tracks in its floor, Danny jumped in. As Taamu had noted long ago, no one from Five-0 ever takes a bus ride alone.

….

Martin sat fuming as he stared at Madame Trabuc. She seemed to be looking at him with an expression of, _'You really blew it this time, Shaftbottom'._

How could that teamster idiot screw this up! All he had to do is set the crates aside until the end of the show then just ship them out as he would normally any of the others. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. He couldn't even blame this one on Bob.

That meeting with the buyer is set for tomorrow night. If he didn't have the paintings, he didn't have much chance of getting off the island alive. That guy is dangerous. Before he'd even contacted him he knew of his reputation and had reservations about dealing with him but the payoff was too big. If this had gone as planned, he wouldn't have to pull another heist for years, well, that is if he could control himself. He supposed it couldn't hurt to fly commercial. Maybe he'd just economize that way instead of taking private jets. How repulsive.

He sat chewing on his pipe and mulling over his options. _This is going to take some_ _time_ , he thought, _Time I may not have._

….

Danny watched from the corner of the room as Steve's shirt was cut off. The sleeves had already been destroyed by the EMT's. The trauma team worked efficiently with no waste of time or movement. Very quickly, his partner was hooked to various pieces of machinery that would help stabilize him and possibly assist in telling the tale of what caused him to collapse.

"BP's ninety over 60 but holding." advised a bulky coco-skinned woman who'd immediately wrapped the cuff around Steve's bicep as soon as he'd been laid on the exam table. Another nurse had clamped a pulse ox on his finger.

"There's a lot of bruising but I don't see anything that would contribute to the BP issue. Let's take a look at his back." said the ER doctor who once again happened to be Linda Farina.

Steve was quickly turned onto his side and the doctor zeroed in on a diffuse bruise just below his ribcage on the right-hand side.

"Bingo." exclaimed Dr. Farina, "Let's get him to the scanner!"

…

Her patient now resting in a step-down unit upstairs, the ER doctor sits across from a worried looking blonde man. Detective Williams looks as though he should be hospitalized himself; haggard and disheveled with his hair nowhere near as perfectly arranged as she'd remembered it.

"From what we can see on the CT scan, there's been some trauma to his right kidney that's caused bleeding that may have been ongoing for at least a couple of days." explained Farina.

"Wait, you mean he's been bleeding internally all this time?! Why the hell wasn't this discovered when he was here three days ago!" exclaimed the agitated detective.

She'd already anticipated the question. Her patient's medical proxy had proven to be a fierce advocate for his friend. She understood the anger in the detective's tone and still felt guilty for being bullied into letting McGarrett walk out of the ER three days ago.

Looking directly into the man's pale blue eyes she explained, "When the Commander was brought in the first time; there was a lot of external bruising but no indication of anything going on internally. The damage is fairly minor and normally could have resolved on its own but because of an underlying condition, his blood failed to clot well enough to stop the bleeding."

"So, just how serious is this?" asked the detective. From his tone he wasn't letting anyone off the hook.

"It may not be critical. If we can support him by transfusion of whole blood augmented with additional clotting measures, there shouldn't be any need for anything invasive."

Danny felt a minor bit of relief. There is still the more major problem to deal with but it looked as though Steve may have caught a bit of a break this time.

The detective relaxed a bit and tiredly ran a hand through his hair which explained its lack of perfection. "He said he was supposed to come in for a transfusion today anyway. Now, I guess he's not going to avoid it no matter how much he hates being in a hospital."

"Well, if he'd gotten some rest as I and no doubt every doctor aware of his condition has ordered, this emergency could have been avoided."

"So you're saying that if Steve had behaved himself and stayed in bed we wouldn't be sitting here having this discussion?" asked Danny, feeling his anger build toward an entirely different person this time.

"Frankly, I'm surprised he had the energy to do anything _but_ stay in bed." answered Farina sounding just that. She was amazed the man had the strength to stand upright let alone to continue working. "His BP was pretty low when he was brought in and his heartrate much too fast; both indications of shock."

The detective silently nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Dr. Farina asked, "Your partner must have been in a fair amount of pain. Did he complain of any discomfort or say that he'd noticed blood in his urine?"

"He said his back hurt but he never complained of anything else." conceded Danny as he nodded his head then looked to be contemplating something or someone not in this small office as he drew his lips into a thin line.

With narrowed eyes, Danny asked, "So would he have noticed something wrong? I mean other than the pain?"

Dr. Farina, knowing why the detective asked the question replied, "Possibly. I'm not the Commander's primary on this one but Dr. Fanning or Dr. Andrade should have ordered a urinalysis along with all the blood work. Let me see if there'd been enough blood for it to have been noticeable."

The dark haired doctor turned toward the computer setting on the desk and punched a few keys. "It looks like blood was found, yes." Squinting to read further, she said, "A nephrologist reviewed the results and had deemed it a minor enough amount that there was no emergency. Dr. Fanning who called the commander yesterday would have related this to him. Considering the patient's as yet unconfirmed diagnosis, he would have advised the Commander to stay in bed and avoid strenuous activity for several days and that ignoring that advisement would have serious consequences."

"Steve did talk to a doctor yesterday." confirmed Danny, "That's when he told me he was scheduled for a transfusion."

Dr. Farina frowned at him from the other side of the desk, "Detective, I don't understand why the Commander was still on duty."

The frazzled looking man sat there for a moment shaking his head silently and clenching his jaw before he exclaimed, "That sonofabitch! He knew there was an issue but never said anything about being ordered to stay in bed. He said the doctor told him it could wait until tomorrow."

"Detective, the bleeding could have been considered insignificant enough that it wasn't an emergency and it could very well have waited until the next day but," the doctor paused here, "He would have definitely been told to rest and avoid strenuous activity for several days if not weeks. What had been only minor bleeding could be exacerbated by engaging in anything other than walking back and forth to the bathroom."

"So when my partner pulled that last stunt of tackling someone then landing on concrete, it intensified the bleeding?"

"Yes, that action was ill-advised to say the least." agreed the physician

Sitting absolutely still, the detective seemed to be mulling something in his mind then, huffing out a breath, he appeared to come to a conclusion. "When he comes-to, I'm gonna rip him a new one!" vowed Danny, his face flushing in anger.

"When he comes-to, I'll join you in that exercise." said Dr. Farina, her dark eyes looking very determined.

…..

The light is too bright. He tried to tell them so but what came out was a language he didn't recognize in a voice he didn't recognize. He tried again, "'s too brigh" he managed. That sounded almost the way he'd intended. He had to try again.

Danny stopped leafing through the surprisingly current copy of _US Magazine_ he'd found in the waiting room to look toward the sound.

"'s too brigh 'n here." croaked out the man blinking groggily back at him from the bed.

"So, you finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh?" The detective took a step toward the bed while waving the magazine in front of his partner's face, "Did you know Caitlyn Jenner was chosen worst dressed during New York fashion week?"

Steve looked up from the bed as though his partner had grown another head. "Whaa?" he croaked out.

"You'd think that after he, excuse me, _she_ went through all that trouble, the girl would pay more attention to her wardrobe."

Danny was pissed. Danny was majorly pissed. Danny was going to let Steve know just how pissed he is but, right now, he needed to torture him first.

Due to the transfusion, Steve had regained some color and no longer looked like someone who'd been pulled out of one of Max's refrigerated drawers at the ME's office. Therefore, as far as his fuming partner is concerned, Five-0's leader is now fair game.

"Iss too bright in here." repeated Steve, feeling almost proud he'd accomplished sounding as though he spoke English instead of whatever had come out on that first attempt.

"Bright?" repeated Danny, getting warmed-up for the main event, "Bright is not a word I'd use anywhere near you at the moment."

"Huh?" asked Steve bringing a hand up to shade his eyes from the morning light pouring in through the blinds; the ones his partner apparently refuses to close.

"I said that using the word 'bright' is actually offensive at the moment." repeated the blonde, still calm enough though with a slight growl.

"Why 'r you . . .?" began the man who'd just woken up and had yet to establish how he'd even arrived here physically.

"You, my friend, are far, far, from being described as bright, intelligent, smart, wise or anything remotely in that vein. I would, however, use the words: imbecilic, idiotic, and suicidal."

"What the hell are . . ." began Steve fumbling through the bedding for the control to bring the head of his bed to a sitting position.

Danny, refusing to be interrupted went on, "When I asked you what the doctors said about you remaining out of the hospital, you didn't tell me that you were supposed to go home, go to bed, and stay there!"

"They said . . ." blurted Steve

"No, no. No talking until I've finished what I have to say." said Danny stonily.

"That's gonna take a while, isn't it?" mumbled Steve while rolling his eyes. This time it didn't even make him dizzy.

"I know you think you're being clever." said Danny coldly, "But if you don't take your health seriously, then _I_ sure as hell won't."

"Danny, let me . . ." began Steve once more.

"I said you don't get to talk until I'm finished." said the man still fairly calm, though a red flush is beginning to creep into his face, "I don't care if you're my boss, the president, or just the king of wishful thinking. I'm not done with you yet."

Steve, realizing that his partner is stone cold serious, shut his mouth and pressed the button to bring the head of the bed upward. If he's going to die by a barrage of angry words at least he'd be sitting up while doing it.

"You told me that the transfusion could wait." ground out his partner.

Steve shook his head in the affirmative but kept silent.

"While you were taking your nap I talked to Dr. Farina and yes, that was the truth." said Danny

Steve stared steadily back, face calm, but cringing inside because now he knows what the issue is and he can't say that he doesn't deserve whatever his worried partner is about to dish out.

"What you neglected to mention is that you had a bruised kidney." The detective's hands were about to be deployed, "You neglected to mention that you were supposed to stay in bed for a week." The hands began to wave about. "You neglected to mention that any strenuous activity, like running and tackling someone, could kill you." Warm-up accomplished, the hands were now fully operational and whipped the air, "You neglected to fucking mention, that you've been pissing blood for three days!"

Two men, one pale, the other red with anger, stared silently at each other as a nurse peeped into the room then chose to quietly back away.

….

"How the hell could this have happened!" yelled Martin

"Look, how was I to know that little dickhead had it out for me?!"

"You have to fix this! You have no idea how serious a situation this is!"

"Look, the show breaks down day after tomorrow. Those crates will be out of here by that night."

"That's not good enough. We'll be history by then, you ineffective twit!"

"Twit?! Did you just call me a twit!? What the hell is a twit?!"

"Okay then, you fucking idiot! Do you understand that term?!"

"Hey, no need to get hostile." said the teamster thinking, _Sheesh, what is it with these people on this stupid island?_

"No need?" fumed Martin, "If _I_ , that means you as well mind you because I'm not facing this alone, don't get that shipment to the dock by the agreed on day, we shall all be - to put it in your oh so colorful terms - sleeping with the fishes."

"I knew you were a lightweight." snorted the teamster, "So who is this big bad wolf that's got you pissing your panties?"

"Have you ever heard of the Yakuza?" answered Martin, waiting for what should be a startled acknowledgement. He wasn't disappointed.

There was a pause then the strangled exclamation, "Fuck me with a pogo stick. We're dead meat!"

…

The yelling had finally ceased and voices had dropped to a more normal conversational volume.

Danny felt that he had finally made his point(s): Hiding serious medical problems from those who care about you is not acceptable. Pushing yourself until you literally fall over is not acceptable. Pretty much none of what had gone on in the last three days is acceptable.

Steve lay staring out the window and wishing he was anywhere but here. His head ached, his back ached, his entire being ached. His confrontation with Danny had taken even more out of him; energy he didn't have. He had no resistance left in him.

"Dr. Farina said that one of the reasons you wound-up here ahead of schedule is because of exhaustion. She said your electrolytes are out of whack along with everything else." stated the blonde man standing next to the bed.

"Uh, huh." acknowledged Steve, not looking at his friend. He just hoped to fall back to sleep and get some peace.

"Steve, you know that I'm only worried about you." said Danny, putting a hand on the bed railing and gazing somberly at his friend. "You know that I and the rest of your team only want you to take some interest in your own welfare; something you haven't done much of lately."

Steve turned hollow eyes toward his friend. "I'm sorry Danny. I didn't mean to worry you guys. I know I could do a better job of taking care of myself. It's just that, umm . . . it's just that since Cath left I don't . . ." his voice trailed off as he searched for the right words. "I just don't know where my place is anymore. I feel uhh, I dunno, I feel adrift for lack of a better word."

Danny smiled softly, "Well at least you used a nautical term."

Almost as if talking to himself he said softly, "Catherine was my anchor." Then realizing what he'd just said, he chuckled mirthlessly, "Okay, another nautical term I guess but it's true. She was the one who made me feel that I mattered for more than just my skills. For more than whatever I could do."

"Steven, you matter to a whole hell of a lot of people." said Danny, his voice rising in exasperation once again.

"Yeah, Danny." said Steve blowing a breath out of his nose, "I know that I matter because people need to be kept safe. Some of them may even appreciate that we work so hard to keep them so but I sort of think that we're sometimes just considered a necessary evil, that _I_ am a necessary evil."

"So, you're saying that your only value is that you've got the skills to fight the bad guys?"

"Yeah, I guess. Now maybe I won't be able to even do _that_ anymore." he added softly.

Danny stood looking at his worn down friend, wondering what he could possibly say to make him feel better. What could he say to someone so battered, emotionally as well as physically? Then, something awful suddenly dawned on Detective Daniel Williams.

"Steve" he said quietly, "Are you thinking that you have nothing to lose? Is that what's behind that crazy stunt; rushing out of cover to tackle that woman then cover her with your body?" Taking a deep breath, Danny went on "Were you thinking that since you're going to die anyway, it may as well be in a blaze of glory?"

Steve only turned to look out the window once more; rays of sunlight striking his face now half in brightness, half in shadow.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Next update hopefully within a week. Reviews would be much appreciated.**


	11. The Lucky One

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 11

 **Posted this in a rush. I hope it hangs together well enough to make sense. Thanks to SPNGran for a quick beta job. I haven't gotten back to anyone yet to thank them for their comments but I will. Please forgive my rudeness.**

 **Medical stuff is courtesy of Google. I am fudging a bit on some of it but hope to not kill anyone with a typo.**

 **Disclaimer: Still don't get paid for this. If I did I'd hire someone to take over the full-time job of keeping track of husband's keys, wallet, eyeglasses, cell, TV remote, and etc. They can also fetch the hundreds of things that Not-So-Ninja cat has batted under the sofa. Hmm. Do you think there could be some sort of correlation?**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **The Lucky One**

Like a trolling shark, a dark Mercedes with blacked-out windows cruised past the café then continued down the boulevard. Three minutes later it passed again. Two more minutes after that it pulled up to the curb at the no parking zone. It sat ominously idling for a long five minutes before its driver exited and came around to the passenger side to open the rear passenger door. Two men had suddenly appeared, one to stand at the front and another to stand at the back of the car. Their eyes roved through the people on the terrace and then further down the street; their hands are held easily at their sides not far from the Glocks he knew were in the holsters under their loose jackets.

 _Boy, this guy doesn't take any chances_ , thought Martin as he felt his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. This is not how he pictured this going. He remembered that someone had once told him, 'You want to make God laugh? Just tell him your plans.'

….

Danny waited for Steve to respond to his question about why he ran from cover to tackle and throw himself atop that woman.

Silence stretched over the next couple minutes with Steve staring out the window and Danny standing by the bed waiting for an answer.

"Well, I guess your lack of an answer _is_ the answer then." said the blonde finally

"Danny," said Steve in a clear, strong, voice, "I didn't do that because I am suicidal, I did it because it had to be done. It's what I've trained for my entire life."

"That may be." conceded his friend, "But tell me that not surviving it wasn't in the back of your mind."

"Well, yes . . . I mean no. I wasn't thinking about killing myself but, of course, the thought had occurred to me that I may not survive this anemia thing."

Danny mulled over Steve's statement. Turning to walk to the window, he looked down at the gathering of birds on the morning damp hospital lawn. While still faced away from his partner he said, "You may not have consciously thought of it, no; but Steve, you must know that if you didn't survive, there'd be a whole helluva lotta people who'd miss your sorry ass."

"I know, Danny." was the quiet reply behind him

"Do you really? Since Catherine left we've tried to be there for you but for every step we make toward you, you back away two."

"I didn't mean . . ."

"You remember when I called you feral?" interrupted the blonde.

"Vividly." said Steve, recalling the argument they'd had one day when Steve announced he had no intention of attending a meet 'n greet with the local farmer's market association. Its intention was to obviate the group's negative perception after the measures Five-0 had taken to apprehend their latest lawbreaker:

" _Look, you animal! I'm not gonna be the one left twisting in the wind just because you thought it was a good idea to plow through a row of fruit vendors while chasing that idiot perp!" yelled the red-faced detective._

" _We caught him didn't we?" replied McGarrett sounding more defensive than angry_

" _Yeah, after you turned bushels of fruit into a giant smoothie by driving over them!"_

" _Danny! I'm not going to leave you twisting in the wind! I've already called the Governor to apologize and explain what happened!"_

" _So, you think that's all that's required? A damned phone call?!"_

" _Look, you know I'm not good at that small talk stuff! Judging by everything you've said about me I might even make it worse." snorted McGarrett_

" _I'm not letting you off the hook just because despite the effort it's taken to domesticate you, you're still fucking feral!"_

" _Feral?!" repeated Steve sounding offended_

 _Hands waving wildly for emphasis, the apoplectic blonde proclaimed, "Yes, you animal! Feral!"_

 _Things had gone downhill from there with Chin and Lou actually poised to break up a brawl if need be. Ultimately, Steve attended the event though he said no more than the minimum while there. It had been up to the rest of the team to attempt to mollify the attendees with disarming conversation._

"You're not that far from reverting to what you'd been when you first came back to Hawaii. You've cut yourself off from us and we have no idea what you're thinking. How could I not come to the conclusion that you're not suicidal after what you pulled?"

"Danny, I'm not suicidal, okay?" said Steve with all the sincerity he could muster, frustration creeping into his tone as well.

After another beat, his partner sighed loudly and with a nod said, "Okay."

Steve leaned back into his pillow and closed his eyes in relief.

"Look, when you come back from your test, we'll toast to your triumph over this stupid plastic anemia thing by chugging some jello or something. Any color you want."

"Sounds good." chuckled his friend just as a nurse appeared at the doorway and asked, "You ready for the big event?"

…

The plan is to begin treatment once the diagnosis is confirmed. The biopsy is scheduled for an actual operating room rather than the clinic setting where they're usually done. It's almost always an outpatient procedure but Steve is not a candidate because of his high risk for bleeding.

Dr. Fanning, the one performing the procedure, had asked yesterday if there was a relative willing to be tested as a marrow donor if that's the treatment of choice. A blood relative is a better chance for a match.

As with everything else about his partner this wouldn't be easy. As far as Danny knew, there'd be only the one candidate - Mary. Aunt Deb was having health issues of her own; that and her age ruled her out.

Steve hadn't heard from his sister for a couple of weeks. Mary had gone to meet the parents of a guy she'd met and was thinking of marrying. Lately she'd had a much more stable lifestyle than her past wild-child status but it didn't make her any easier to find. Having been so busy the last month or so, Steve hadn't yet had a chance to check the background of his sister's latest suitor; something he'd done over the years without her knowing of it. Though they'd had very little contact with one another, it had fallen to him bail her out, (sometimes literally), of the negative situations to which she seemed to be prone.

Steve did look quite a bit better than he had yesterday. The transfusion had helped tremendously. With blood volume restored, his heartrate had slowed and become steadier. His face now had a color other than chalk white and his eyes looked not quite so hollow.

The improvement will be only temporary however. According to what Fanning had told them, the anemia would progress until transfusions no longer helped or, after several transfusions, there is also the danger of a reaction to the transfusion itself. With the cause of the condition unknown, it makes it even more difficult to project the outcome. Best case scenario the anemia could resolve after only supportive measures, worst case, it could eventually be fatal. There's no way to feel secure about anything, no way to relax. It would be like building a house on an earthquake fault.

….

He'd only met Mr. Nozaki in person that one time five years ago and hoped not to have to do so again. The snake-like eyes; pieces of obsidian set in an unmoving mask, had unnerved him.

Feeling the back of his collar dampen with sweat, he giggled nervously to himself. He wondered if, considering the exalted positon the man held in his organization, perhaps he'd be carried up the steps of the terrace cafe in a sedan chair.

The image actually flashed through his mind before he could tell himself, _Knock it off Shaftbottom! Hysterics are not going to help!_

The only piece he has to bargain with is the one Van Gough. He was actually going to keep her for himself; selling the other two Van Goughs along with the two Renoirs, the Gauguin and one each of the others. The dour Mrs. Trabuc sits carefully wrapped and zipped into the nylon art portfolio on the chair next to him. She'll have to be sacrificed.

Accepting that unsolicited advance four years ago had been a mistake though returning it could have had serious consequences. The envelope that had magically appeared on the desk in his study held confirmation for the deposit of a hundred-thousand Swiss francs into an account in his name along with a 'shopping list'. Mr. Nozaki wasn't that thrilled he'd have to wait so long before he could receive his merchandise but when it had been explained that it was the most foolproof way to fill his order, he'd agreed to the plan.

When he'd dealt with the Yakuza oyabun that first time, he had no idea just how ruthless the man could be. Several of those involved in the first heist had 'mysteriously' disappeared. He supposes he's lucky that his client had liked his work and considered him possibly useful in the future.

Thank God for small favors.

…..

The procedure went smoothly. Placed on his side, Steve felt the doctor pressing along the bone at the back edge of his pelvis until he found the right spot then it was marked it with a pen. He felt the coldness of the antiseptic as the area was swabbed before a paper dressing was draped over it.

"You're going to feel a little sting when we inject Lidocaine to numb the area." said Dr. Fanning as he proceeded to push a needle deep into the center of the X he'd drawn then angled it to numb a larger area.

"Do you feel anything?" asked Fanning as he tapped with a gloved finger in the middle of the mark.

"Not a thing." said Steve. He'd been told that pain can vary from patient to patient. Some of them experience none at all, some can feel a bit 'uncomfortable' when the fluid is withdrawn, and some find it excruciating.

Using a scalpel, the doctor made a small incision at the X mark before pushing in a large hollow needle with a T-shaped handle on it.

"You're going to feel pressure now." said Fanning as the tip of the needle met the rear surface of his patient's pelvic bone. The doctor pushed and twisted the needle into place. It took a couple of minutes before it was deep enough to draw the sample.

"How're you doing, Commander?" asked Fanning

"Fine. All I feel is some pressure." answered Steve

"Okay, good. We're at the part where we withdraw some fluid right before we take a sample of the tissue. You may feel this." The doctor withdrew the thin wire that had been threaded through the hollow needle and attached a large syringe to the opening in the handle then pulled back on the plunger to withdraw fluid.

All went well for another second then, Holy Mother! It felt like someone stuck an icepick into his hip and he felt it all the way down his leg! The pain surprised him but it was brief. A sharp intake of breath was the only indication he gave that it had caused any discomfort.

"You felt that one, huh?" asked Fanning as he handed off the fluid filled syringe to an assistant.

"You could say that." said Steve through gritted teeth

"It's almost over." he said as he applied pressure while twisting the needle back and forth to obtain the core tissue sample.

There was more discomfort but not unbearable. After another couple of minutes, Fanning said, "We're all done Commander." then turning to his assistant said, "Get me more gauze. It's bleeding quite a bit. We may need some gel for this."

Finally, Steve was instructed to roll onto his back and stay there for several minutes. He still felt an ache down his leg but it wasn't anything that required more than maybe Tylenol. No big deal.

…

The meeting had gone well enough. Despite his fears, Mr. Nozaki had seemed pleased with being able to get his hands on Mrs. Trabuc and had agreed to wait an additional twenty-four hours for the balance of his order.

As the Mercedes pulled away, Martin tried very hard to keep his hands from shaking as he sipped his tea. He's getting too old for this shit. When he gets back to his hotel, he's going to take a Xanax and lie down.

Not needing any additional drama at this point, he decided that Bob can stay where he is for now. He'll have someone go fetch him tomorrow then get him off the island. Pulling his cell from his pocket, it took him a couple of tries before he punched the right button for his contacts. The Teamster picked up on the first ring.

"Get those crates to the ship." said Martin, "I don't care what you have to do. Our buyer agreed to wait for another twenty-four hours, no more. So, if you want to be able to live to enjoy the fruits of your labor, get the job done!"

"Yes sir." said the Teamster meekly.

Growling an oath as the call ended, the burly man went looking for the forklift driver. If the asshole wanted to keep screwing him over, he'd better make sure he's made out his will and his life insurance is up to date.

An hour later he watched as another couple of crates were shifted to the side and the forklift took those behind them to the front of the queue. _This is going to take fucking forever_ , he sighed.

…

Because of the previous injury, Steve's doctors were reluctant to pursue a treatment that could stress his kidneys; all of the treatment options would do that. The biopsy results will be ready tomorrow. From there, they'll decide which treatment to pursue.

The art heist, the stalker case, and Steve's prognosis were all up in the air. Everyone felt on edge and without hope for rest anytime soon. The only one who'd rested is Steve but only reluctantly and only because his doctors drugged him into oblivion after realizing who it is they're dealing with. As his partner had described him, their patient is incredibly stubborn and not one to sit around doing nothing when duty calls.

There'd been no further progress on the stalker case but Chin and Lou were traveling to Lanai tomorrow to interview the supposedly kidnapped Jason Keoki's relatives.

Perhaps the team would fare better with the art heist. Chin's lead on an art buyer had come to naught. but Kono had come up with a possible lead on a big time Yakuza boss who'd been suspected of acquiring stolen art in the past though nothing had ever been proven.

Five years ago, someone had made off with a painting by Gustav Klimt worth over eighty million dollars. Authorities still had no idea who'd stolen it and the painting had never been recovered. It is rumored that Tatsuo Nozaki has it hanging on his wall in his Tokyo mansion.

Though he'd been out of the 'family business' for some time and was doing his best to legitimize his legacy and cut his ties with his father's organization, Kono's new husband had many memories of time spent with his old man. Kono had asked him to keep an ear out for any whispers of art theft involving the Yakuza. He wished to have nothing to do with the past but after Kono had shown him pictures of the stolen art which included the Klimt from five years ago, Adam remembered seeing it during a party he'd attended with his father. The eighty million dollar painting was hanging over Tatsuo Nozaki's parlor mantelpiece. The oyabun had no fear that anyone ever invited into his home would risk his wrath by reporting it.

"We have another meeting with Atwell the museum director tomorrow." said Danny as he stretched the kinks out of his back in preparation to leaving for the night.

"He have anything for us?" asked Steve who hadn't been impressed with the man he considered a big bag of wind and a bully who liked to beat up on his underlings.

"He says he'd heard a rumor that the paintings were on their way to Colombia. That one of those gazillionaire drug lords has a taste for fine art."

"Somehow, I think Adam's information is a better lead." said Steve, shifting in bed to ease the pressure on his hip. He was uncomfortable but grateful he had the freedom to get out of bed if he wanted to. Early this morning before the procedure, they'd removed the Foley but were still carefully watching his output. To his consternation, he still had to pee into a container. There was still a faint tint of blood visible but nowhere near as much as before.

"Why do you think Adam's lead is more promising?" asked Danny as he leaned forearms on the bedrail.

"Well, we know the oyabun has a history of acquiring incredibly expensive art and, according to what Kono dug up, he's on Oahu right now. That sounds a bit more promising than a rumor from someone who doesn't necessarily know a lot about the underworld." said Steve, "Besides, the guy's a dick."

"If that's the qualifier for being a suspect, then we'd have to arrest _you_." snarked Danny

"Maybe so but I don't have the energy to give anyone a bad time right now." said Steve equably

"I'm sure someone whose been around the art world long enough, must know who buys and sells stolen stuff." said Danny

"That may be true as well, but this is big time money here. There aren't that many people, drug lords or not who have the scratch to make it happen on this scale." said Steve

"Scratch?" asked Danny with one eyebrow raised, "I think you've watched too many episodes of Starsky and Hutch."

"Nah, it was T.J. Hooker. We'd watch it along with some other old stuff in our down time." smiled his partner. "For some reason, it was one of the shows on the VHS cassettes one of the guys bought along with a player in a village in umm . . . never mind."

"I know, it's classified." Danny waved it off.

Frowning at his almost slip-up that he'd put down to the fogginess left by sleep meds, Steve continued, "Anyway, the Yakuza boss makes more sense than the drug lord theory."

"Well, we know South American drug lords can make a whole lot happen." said Danny, his face a mixture of anger and sadness and guilt.

"Oh, man," apologized Steve, "I'm sorry Danny. I didn't mean to stir anything up."

"I know, it's okay. I can't be upset every time someone brings up drug lords or Colombia in the same conversation. That would pretty much recuse me from about half of our cases."

"Still," said Steve, "I apologize."

Danny stood and mimed dusting off his hands as he said, "We got other things to think about as well. Have you given any thought to the Governor's memo about the traffic situation around the convention center?"

"You're kidding right?" asked Steve

"No, it's a legit question. When Denning called us, it took forever to get through the congestion to get to the museum. What happens if there's a big exhibit going on at the same time as a trade show?"

"We're not traffic control Danny. The Governor's just going to have to make do with his usual miss-appointed group of jerkoffs. Aren't they the ones getting paid for coming up with solutions for stuff like that?"

"I hear the traffic commissioner used to be his proctologist." smiled Danny

"Who better than to help him get his head out of his ass when stuff like this presents itself?" chuckled Steve before it turned into a hacking cough.

Danny looked on in concern until it stopped then said, "In any case, I'm sure HPD will have their hands full with all the extra people showing up to look at the latest doodads and thingamabobs that people are trying to push."

"Huh?"

"You know, at the traade sshoow." said Danny, drawing out the two words for emphasis. "You know, it's the place where people present products or services to potential buyers and manufacturers."

"Yes, Danny. I know what a trade show is." said the SEAL in annoyance, "But with everything else going on, do you really think Five-0 has time to deal with herds of drunken salesmen wandering around? Don't we have enough trouble with our regular drunken tourists? Adding salesmen to the mix is . . ."

"Salespeople, Steven."

"What?" asked Steve wondering where the hell Danny was going this time.

"It's not a gender exclusive profession." said the blonde a bit smugly

"Why should I even . . ."

"May I remind _you_ that I have a daughter who reminds _me,_ almost daily, that terms like fire man, policeman . . ."

"Snow man?"

"What?"

"Frosty the Snow Person just doesn't sound right, brah."

"Don't be a smartass, Steven."

…

"So, it looks like bone marrow transplant may be off the table anyway." said Dr. Fanning to Dr. Shan the nephrologist.

"I really wouldn't want to put the patient's kidneys under any more stress. The bruising was pretty severe. There's the risk of even more hemorrhaging if exposed to the amount of chemo it will take to prepare for a transplant. There's also the issue of our patient having received a transfusion which will complicate it even further if there's production of antibodies."

Switching from the images of CT scans, Dr. Fanning somberly examined the slides of his patient's bone marrow shown on the big screen. "I really have doubts there's enough there to regenerate."

"I don't think we have a choice but to wait and see." said Dr. Shan turning from the image to look at his colleague, "You know your patient was actually lucky to wind-up with that bruising otherwise we may not have seen the damage in time. The uncompromised kidney is starting to show signs of being affected by whatever toxin caused the problem in the first place. Output is still in the okay range but if the damaged one becomes non-functional we can't trust that the other will be able to take up the slack."

"So you're saying that even if we don't go the cyclophosphamide route, we may be looking at a kidney transplant or full-time dialysis patient?" frowned Tom Fanning.

"I'm afraid so."

"You said he was lucky?"

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 **Reviews would be much appreciated. I feel like I've sort of lost my focus. Will try to step it up in the next chapter.**


	12. We're All Tired

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 12

 **Here's a long one. If you want to shoot me for not posting sooner, aim your pistolas at Microsoft first. Besides having issues with computers in general, I have been at war with Windows 10 since it first launched itself at my laptop. The bastards are winning. Just to vent, I'm considering posting details of the battle on my page. If I do, there will be blood.**

 **The final version of this chapter was not betaed but I gratefully name SPNGran as its co-author. In addition to muse duty, she took total chaos and made sense of it when I was about to throw in the towel.**

 **Disclaimer: If I made money from this, there would be a full-time intermediary between myself and anything to do with computers, or maybe I could hire a hit man to do away with the person who approved automatic updates for Windows 10. AGGHH!**

 ***5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii *5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0***

 **We're All Tired**

When his team had arrived a little after seven A.M. Danny was already in his office. He'd waved a quick hello without interrupting his phone conversation then, after hanging up, spent the next hour tapping away at his laptop. Hearing a knock on his door, without looking up from his computer screen he responded, "Come in."

Completing the last page of his report he looked up and was startled to find Kono, Chin, and Lou staring down at him.

"What is this? An intervention?" he asked uneasily; pushing his chair away from his desk and leaning back in it with arms crossed over chest.

Without a warm-up, the first ball was thrown. "Danny, what's wrong with Steve?" asked Kono, determination in her dark eyes.

"What's usually wrong with Steve? The guy's an animal." replied Danny with an unsure smile.

Ignoring his attempt at levity, Chin threw the next pitch, "It's gotta be something serious, brah. He's in the hospital for the second time and now they're keeping him there." Crossing arms over chest as Danny had done, the Hawaiian detective waited for an answer.

While their temporary leader was still considering his reply, Lou weighed in with, "The man looks like he lost a fight with a backhoe. I know McGarrett thinks he's ten foot tall and bulletproof but somehow I don't think the bullets are bouncin' off this time."

"You guys know how tired he's been . . ." began Danny weakly

"We're all tired." said the three teammates simultaneously as though rehearsed. They paused to glance at one another with startled expressions.

Kono persisted. "Danny," she said, "Steve's looked exhausted for weeks and we know he's had headaches and nosebleeds and it's obvious that he keeps losing weight. We need to know what's wrong. We need to know what we can do to help."

"Brah, Kono's right. If Steve is really ill then we need to be there for him. He wouldn't collapse just because he's tired. Steve has always been like the Energizer Bunny and, until now, nothing has ever kept him down. Even when he came back from North Korea he seemed to bounce back in no time."

"Yeah, well, that bastard Wo Fat had another shot at him and it um . . . this time it's going to be a bit harder to bounce back." said Danny, trying not to give too much away.

"That's not an answer Danny." said Kono, much too like her mentor who was never one for bullshit – at least no one's but his own.

Danny scanned the three faces staring resolutely back at him. He has to give some sort of answer and not blow them off but he doesn't know how Steve will feel if he broke the news about having such a serious illness. He'd been there with his friend when Doctors Fanning and Shan had confirmed the diagnosis of aplastic anemia but Steve was still mulling over what had been presented.

Of course the team knows their boss is ill and had been for some time. So far, they've only been told of the bruised kidney and the exhaustion. It would explain a lot but not everything.

Every member of Five-0 held their own theory as to what may be wrong: Lou had spent much of his youth with a pal who'd died of leukemia. Marvin, who'd died before he was even sixteen, had symptoms nearly identical to Steve's. Every time the big man thought of his long ago friend, his worry for his current friend increased.

Kono had Googled for information based on symptoms she'd observed. What she found was disturbing because in aggregation they all pointed to some very serious illnesses; some of them possibly fatal. Adam had sensed she was upset and when she'd told him of the reason for her worry he'd put his arms around her and said with conviction, "Kono, you know how strong Steve is. He'll fight whatever it is and he will win. He's going to be alright." Of course Adam has no way of knowing that but she appreciated his comfort nonetheless.

Two nights ago, as she sat in the ER waiting room, she wondered if Steve needed someone to tell _him_ that he'll be alright. Few would suspect that, despite the tough exterior and self-assurance, he's possibly more fragile than anyone knows. Weeks ago the island girl had sensed what couldn't be attributed to only a physical decline. When Catherine had abandoned him, a bit of his seemingly indestructible spirit had gone with her. She clenched her fist beside her as, again, a burst of anger bubbled to the surface before it could be quelled. She wondered just how much the woman had ever cared about the man who'd loved her with all of his fierce heart.

Chin knows something is terribly wrong. Steve is much too much like his dad, Chin's former partner John McGarrett, who was incredibly stoic and just as pig-headed. Both were loathe to let anyone know if they were ill or injured. One time when arresting a drug dealer who'd put up quite a fight, John had sustained two broken ribs and had never let on that anything was amiss. Chin hadn't even suspected anything had been wrong until they were in the locker room changing into civies. As a couple of the others ending their shift had been horsing around shoving one another in mock battle when one of the combatants had lost his balance and crashed into John's side. As with Steve, there'd been a look of pain and surprise right before the elder McGarrett had passed-out cold. It was only after having been taken to the hospital did anyone find out about the injury from earlier in the day. Steve's collapse at the restaurant night before last had been an almost déjà vu experience.

Coming to a decision, Danny began his answer, "Look, you guys know there were going to be tests. Pending the results, Steve will probably have something to tell you. All I can say is that, right now, we need to get these cases taken care of so that when our fearless leader comes back to work he won't have to deal with the governor being on his back every waking second. I didn't truly realize what a pain in the ass Denning could be until I had to deal with him firsthand. Honestly, I have no idea how SuperSEAL dealt with the guy without lobbing a grenade at him."

Kono opened her mouth to protest the non-answer but then reluctantly closed it. Chin and Lou looked skeptically at the blonde detective but didn't say anything.

"When Steve is ready to talk, he will." assured Danny, "Now, we've got work to do. Let's get to it."

….

By ten, Chin and Lou had made the short trip to Lanai and called with news that Jason Keoki's aunt and uncle had admitted they'd been bribed to hold onto the kid for two weeks without telling anyone. The money had paid off the mortgage on their house and then they had planned a trip to Disney World. It wasn't yet decided if any charges were to be brought against them. William and Sukey Keoki were cooperative and provided everything they could on the guy who'd delivered the kid and the money. When shown a photo of Robert Hubbard, they'd identified him as the deliverer of Jason and a sack of cash. Their major punishment may be at the hands of the kid's parents. Said Lou Grover, "Sure wouldn't wanna be at the next Keoki family gathering. Someone better be standing by with a fire hose and a loaded tranquilizer gun."

The art heist was another matter. The show of "The World's Most Impressive Impressionists" had gone on without its main attractions. Needless to say, after all the negative publicity about the missing paintings, it wasn't quite the blockbuster that had been anticipated.

The meeting with the museum director had been postponed until later in the day and Danny and Kono had gone to interrogate Bob who still languished in Honolulu County Jail. Now that his role in whatever this is had been confirmed, he had even more to answer to.

…..

Lori, the only one with time on her hands, had stopped by to visit. Steve had been asleep when she'd arrived so she sat in the chair next to the bed to wait for him to wake. Having no clear idea of why he'd collapsed in the first place, her eyes roved over his face.

He looks better than when she'd seen him last - being wheeled out the door of a restaurant to a waiting ambulance. His color has improved but his cheekbones are too prominent; the hollowness at the sides of his face emphasizing them. Still, thin or not, with his aquiline features and lashes even most women would envy, Steve McGarrett is one of the most handsome men she'd ever met. She smiled as she remembered asking Danny how they'd obtained a confession that solved a case. The compact detective's answer had been, _"Ya know, we don't really have to work very hard when we interrogate women. Steve only has to bat his Bambi eyelashes at them and_ _they'll confess to everything up to and including the Lindbergh kidnapping and maybe throw in the location of where Jimmy Hoffa is buried for good measure."_

She was still smiling when those lashes fluttered and hazel-blue eyes opened to discover her sitting beside him.

"Hey." he said, his voice soft and a bit hoarse.

"Hey." she answered.

"How long have you been there?" he asked; looking embarrassed that he'd been caught sleeping. He pushed the button to raise the bed to a sitting position; better to hold a conversation face to face.

"Just a couple minutes. Didn't want to disturb your beauty sleep." she smiled, "Lou says that if you want to keep your lady-killer status you need all you can get."

"Yeah, that's me. A real lady-killer." snorted McGarrett, "Must be the hospital gown and the rainbow colors in my bruises that make me so appealing."

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" asked Lori, "Please don't feel that you have to entertain me. I can come back later."

"Sleeping is pretty much all I've been doing; there's certainly nothing going on here to keep me awake. I think they've been spiking the apple sauce or something. Danny must have put them up to it. I think he's still worried that I'm going to go over the wall." chuckled Steve.

Unbeknownst to the man in the bed, his wry smile was having quite the effect on his visitor as a strange flutter began in her chest. Lori laughed softly then stood to come closer to the bed. "Danny's a good guy." she said, "He cares a lot about his friends. Actually, everyone at Five-0 cares a lot about each other and, right now, you in particular. You've got a really good team, Steve. As I've heard you all say at various times; you're ohana."

"Yeah, I've been pretty lucky that way." he acknowledged without losing his grin, "Still miss you though."

"Missed you guys too." she said, dipping her head and feeling her face grow warmer _. Jeeze, now I'm gonna blush? How junior high is that?!_

"So how's the vacation so far?" asked Steve as he reached for the water pitcher next to the bed. "I bet you didn't think it would feature a shootout in the middle of Honolulu."

"No, I can honestly say that one wasn't in the tourist brochure." answered Lori as she watched him carefully pour a cup of water; concentrating on the task. It isn't an action that one would normally have to put so much focus into. His hands are steady but he's being too deliberate. There was no fluidity in his movements.

He set both the cup and the pitcher back on the nightstand and looking up, said apologetically, "Unless you'd like some water, I can't offer much in the way of hospitality."

"No worries," smiled the profiler, "You know, even though people have at times described me as a bottomless pit, I didn't come here to eat."

"Yeah, I've seen both you and Kalakaua chow down. A guy could lose a finger if he gets too close to your plates."

"Oh really." snorted Lori, "I'll be sure to tell Kono what you said about her table manners. You'll be sorry."

Steve laughed until he began to cough. Lori looked on in alarm then turned to the nightstand to pick up the cup he'd poured earlier to hand it to him.

"Thanks" he croaked out before taking a sip that seemed to help. After a moment, he cleared his throat and said, "They'll be showing up any minute with something that may be chicken or beef or maybe even fish. It's kind of hard to tell. I guess if you boil something long enough it all comes out looking the same no matter what you started out with. They'll have extras if you want a plate. I think the woman that delivers the meals has a crush on Danny. He's eaten with me a couple of times but he'll pretty much eat anything that doesn't have pineapple in it."

"Despite the enticing description of the hospital's cuisine, I think I'll pass." laughed Lori, "I should have brought you something but I wasn't sure if you had any restrictions. I can go down to the cafeteria and get you something else; maybe something that isn't grey and mushy?"

"I may take you up on that. Danny said he hoped to be able to stop by with something better but couldn't guarantee he'd have time. Sounds like no one has much time for anything extracurricular. Denning is keeping everyone pretty busy."

"Kono says she's going to take me surfing as soon as she gets a break from the art theft case." replied Lori.

"From what I hear, that won't be any time soon. None of the leads have panned out so far."

"I told Danny that if there's anything I can help with to let me know." said the profiler.

"With Five-0 being short on personnel lately, maybe he'll take you up on it. I know I would." said Steve as he took another sip of water.

They were interrupted when the door swung open and Danny swept in carrying a couple of paper sacks and a cardboard tray of drinks. He looked tired but immediately smiled when he saw Lori.

"Hey, Weston. It's feeding time at the zoo. There's plenty here if you want to eat with us.

He pulled over a rolling tray that sat on the other side of the bed and, with an accompanying admonishment, set a clear plastic cup containing something green in front of his partner. "Don't ever ask me to bring you one of these again! Even watching them make this glop made me queasy! Kale should never-ever be a drink ingredient. It's disgusting."

As he snatched up the smoothie Steve said, "I know that you'd prefer to liquefy a dozen malasadas and mix them in with a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake, Danny, but someday the fat in the stuff you eat is gonna solidify in your veins. The next time the temperature drops we're going to find you immobile somewhere like one of those butter sculptures they have in Wisconsin."

"This is what I get for being nice?" asked the detective looking toward Lori and splaying his hands palms up in a typical gesture.

"Mmm," murmured Steve as Danny looked on in disgust while his partner took a pull on the straw and the dark liquid was drawn upward like something in an IV line. The blonde actually shuddered before he responded, "I'm never worried about the temperature on this pile of crusted over lava dropping too low 'cause in Hell, it never gets cold, Steven."

Lori laughed at the familiar bickering. That people mistake them for an old married couple is no surprise though both men seem shocked every time it's mentioned. Someone really should record their conversations with one another. She'd love to see the reaction it gets when it's played back to them. _God, I miss this,_ she thought.

"Hey, sorry I can't stay longer." said Danny as he rummaged around in one of the paper sacks. Gesturing to Lori to help herself, he unwrapped what looked like a pastrami on rye and took a giant bite of it. After washing it down with whatever sugary drink was in the large paper cup he snatched from the drink carrier, he said, "I hafta meet Kono at the county lockup in twenty minutes. We're going to question the kidnapping suspect again now that we've got information that he delivered the kid to his aunt and uncle along with a lot of cash."

"Good job." said Steve, "Let me know what you find out."

"Okay, I'll agree to that if you'll promise me again that you won't try to involve yourself in the case other than to offer your opinion on it." answered the detective.

"May I remind you that I'm your boss?" asked Steve, mostly to annoy his partner.

"Boss or not, you're in the hurt locker for now. If I find out that you've so much as twitched in the direction of the palace, I'll contact the governor and have him assign someone to sit on top of you." warned his friend, "Preferably someone the size of Kamekona."

Snorted Steve, "Danny, you know . . ."

"I know that you have a transfusion scheduled for tomorrow morning and then a meeting with your doctors a little after that so please, I'm begging you, behave yourself."

"Fine." snapped Steve, "But you have to update me on a regular basis."

"Deal." replied Danny. Taking one last bite of his sandwich, he said, "Gotta take this to go." then stuffed it back into the paper bag and grabbing up his drink turned to Lori to say, "Make sure he stays out of trouble Weston. The guy's an animal."

The profiler gave him a salute and a smile then the detective rushed out the door.

"So", she said, turning back to the man in the bed, "You got a deck of cards?"

…

Five-0's second-in-command isn't too worried about their restless leader making a break for it anytime soon, especially after Dr. Farina had made a special trip from the ER department to read her former patient the riot act.

Giving Steve something to distract him while trapped in the hospital may work out for everyone. It gave the bored SEAL something to think about other than his situation and putting his sharp mind to their cases could result something that would help to solve them. To that end, tonight he'd drop off a laptop and a flash drive that held anything and everything dug up on both the kidnapping and the art heist.

 _At least it should keep him out of trouble for a while,_ mistakenlythought Five-0's surrogate leader as he steered the Camaro toward Honolulu County Jail where he and Kono were to interrogate Robert Hubbard once again.

….

The special, same-day, delivery had cost a pretty penny but, hey, it wasn't his money. The crates would arrive at the harbor within the revised schedule. Maybe he would actually get some sleep tonight without worrying about becoming shark bait.

The Teamster let out a sigh of relief as the big hot-pink semi with the hibiscus painted on the sides of its trailer pulled away from the loading dock.

 _Who the hell paints their trucks pink? And with fucking flowers on them?! The people here are nuts. They put pineapple on everything!_

As the burly man turned toward the big roll-up doors at the entrance to the crate storage area he could feel himself getting worked up all over again. _And there's that bastard forklift driver who takes orders as only suggestions? The little fucker wouldn't last a day in Chicago. Talk about winding up as fish food! Those big carp in Lake Michigan would have something to nibble on. Yeah, maybe it would be pineapple flavored!_

Entering the relative coolness of the big space under the convention hall, he sighed in relief at being out of the sun. Though he'd looked forward to being away from the dismal grey winters of home, the sunny brightness was getting annoying. He walked toward the union hall where he could hire a crew to start as soon as the show was over. Since it was at the last minute; that would cost extra as well. They'd have to dismantle the booth and haul it away in some makeshift crates he'd already made arrangements for. Again, it wasn't his own money that was to pay for it. When this is over, he's going to take his big paycheck and take a vacation on the mainland. The sun and sand here have only become annoying, along with the much too laid-back locals. At least there's a lot of skin to ogle on the beaches. Some of those swimsuits aren't more than string and a couple'a postage stamps. Damn!

With a smile on his face; preoccupied with thoughts of female flesh, he didn't see the forklift he'd stepped into the path of.

….

Danny had been able to get away, (he _is_ the boss right now), to make a dinnertime visit to Steve. His friend looked no better than he had earlier.

"So, has Denning been on your case?" asked the patient, as he listlessly pushed food around on his plastic plate. The lumpy mashed potatoes, (or were they mashed cauliflower?), looked particularly unappealing right now.

"He's apparently tired of personally torturing us and has gone on to other pursuits. He's sicced his assistant, the guy who owns the Mercedes dealership he leases his cars from on it."

"That sucks." replied Steve

A very large and cheerful nurse bustled in. She looked to be the economy-sized version of the cocoa hued woman in the ER when Steve had been admitted this time around. "How's your appetite today, sweetie?" she asked as she checked the readings on one of the monitors Steve was still hooked-up to and then inspected the hep-lock that had remained in the back of his right hand.

"Pretty much nonexistent. Could you do me a favor, Tina, and take this away please? It's not helping." He plunked the fork onto the uneaten plate of food and lay back with his head turned away from it.

"Are your gums still bleeding?" she asked as she handed him a cup of something and a basin.

"Yeah, it's been pretty steady since yesterday." he replied.

Danny frowned. He knew it was one of the issues that could crop up according to all the research he'd done after hearing of Steve's suspected diagnosis.

"Hang in there, babe. You're due for another round of packed cells tomorrow. That should help." He said in encouragement to his friend who'd obediently rinsed his mouth with the solution and spit into the basin.

Tina looked at the blonde man in surprise then nodded in agreement. "Danny's right, sweetie. It'll help with the clotting issue."

"Steve, I'm gonna go get you some ice cream from the cafeteria. Maybe that'll help." announced the blonde.

"Ugh." muttered the patient before closing his eyes as tried to ignore the urge to hurl.

He heard Danny's retreating footsteps and then Tina bustling around. Next was the much too familiar sound of cellophane being pulled off of a syringe.

"Sweetie, I'm gonna give you another hit of an anti-emetic to see if that will settle your stomach. If you don't start eating I'm afraid Dr. Fanning is going to order an NG tube and feed you that way. I _know_ you don't want that."

"Phenergan doesn't help all that much. You may as well just give me a cup of ginger-ale or something." He said opening his eyes to look at the sympathetic woman.

"Dr. Fanning has prescribed something different because of possible adverse effects on your bone marrow. Let's see how it goes okay?"

"Fine." He said through gritted teeth as she tapped him on the shoulder and made the motion for him to roll onto his side. He felt the cold swab on his left cheek then the bite of a needle.

"All done." she chirped. He rolled onto his back and she tucked the bedding back around him. Though he appreciated her care, it made him feel like a four-year-old. This stuff is really getting on his nerves.

"So what did that guy Hubbard have to say when you braced him with what you'd found out on Lanai?" asked Steve when Danny returned with cups of ice cream for both of them.

"Well, when we told him he'd be charged with kidnapping as well as suspected pedophilia he came unglued. "He kept yelling, "'It wasn't about that! It wasn't about that!'"

"Huh" said Steve before spooning a small amount of ice cream into his mouth. He'd wait to see if it stayed down before taking another. "Of course he'd deny it." snorted the SEAL as he set the small container on the tray along with the spoon.

"Well, we've searched his place and there was nothing to indicate he had any interest in children. His record only shows fairly minor offenses, none of them relating to anything sexual. The guy doesn't even own a computer."

"Could be he's one of those people who are technophobes." said Steve as he sat staring absently at the ice cream sitting on the tray.

"You need to eat that." frowned his partner as he observed his friend for any sign of distress. "You got a big day tomorrow. First the transfusion and then a talk with your doctors."

"Yeah, I know. Just waiting to see if the medication Tina just gave me is gonna take care of the nausea. "

"Well, if Ben and Jerry's vanilla doesn't help then nothing will." said Danny as he shoveled in a spoonful of Chunky Monkey.

Steve gazed fondly at his friend.

"What? Do I have some ice cream on my face?" asked the detective as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Nah, just looking at someone whose friendship means a lot to me." said Steve with a soft smile.

"If you say 'I love you, man', I'm the one who's going to puke." warned Danny

"I don't have to say it, Danny but I think maybe I should." said Steve, his face becoming more serious.

"What do you mean, babe?" asked his friend, a flicker of apprehension growing within.

"If this thing doesn't work out; if I don't survive this illness; I'm not going to die without telling you how much you mean to me."

"What! You're not gonna . . ." began Danny's protest at the thought his friend doubted that he wouldn't conquer this latest of the many challenges in his life.

"Look, Danno," interrupted Steve addressing his friend with the nickname most often employed only to annoy him. "I want you to know how grateful I am for your friendship. If I'd been allowed to chose who I'd wanted as a brother, it would have been you."

Danny didn't know what to say. For one of the only times in his life, he had no words.

"If I'm not gonna beat this, I know I won't die alone. You'll be there with me." said Steve with unflinching honesty.

"I'd never let you die alone, Steven." whispered Danny, now not able to hold back his tears. Wiping at the wetness on his face he barked, "Now knock it off! You're not gonna die unless I kill you myself! You're gonna fight this and beat it. I know that with every fiber of my being."

"I'll try not to let you down, Danno." said Steve softly.

"You'd better not." said the man doing his best to control his emotion, "Now, really, knock it off. My ice cream is getting all soupy."

Half an hour later, Danny crept out of the room after gazing one last time at his sleeping friend

 _Steve is going to beat this! He's not going to die!_ he told himself. Then, as his throat tightened and tears threatened again, _If he does die, it won't be alone._

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 **I hope this one wasn't too sappy for you. Next chapter will be more case centered. At least that's the plan.**

 **Considering what it took to get this puppy posted, I can't promise anything but am aiming to update on Friday. Reviews would be much appreciated.**


	13. Ways to Go

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 13

 **Here's the next, a day late and many dollars short. Due to computer issues and my desire not to be arrested for disorderly conduct and destruction of property, I haven't replied to your reviews but will be doing so after I take a tranquilizer. Please know that your comments are not taken for granted, help to shape the story, and encourage its writer to not chuck the entire thing out the window with the laptop on which it's been written.**

 **Imaginary Beta is on duty again. We all know what to expect.**

 **Disclaimer: If I made money from this, I'd have an anger management coach, (or maybe a gun), sitting next to me as I try to deal with the machines who apparently have it in for me.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Ways to Go**

 _How many times did he have to tell them that he isn't into kids! He'd never touched the brat!_

Bob seethed as he lay on the hard bunk. Martin had promised to get him out if he got arrested. _It's been six fucking days!_ _If that_ _prissy_ _little_ _weirdo_ _thinks he can leave_ _me_ _here in this rat hole . . .!_ Too annoyed to relax, he puffed out an agitated breath then sat up and ran hands through his dark hair.

 _They threatened to charge me with kidnapping and molestation! So,_ okay _, the kidnapping thing I could maybe see but no way did I do anything to that kid. That would be disgusting!_

Yesterday, he'd been questioned again by Five-0. One of the two who'd shown up was Williams and he was still pissed. _Well, considering the guy had to chase me through the fair_ _,_ _then got pasted a good one_ _, and then_ _had the crap_ _kicked out of his partner,_ _maybe it was understandable_ _._

Still, he didn't seem as p.o.'d as that Hawaiian chick. When he'd denied having any creepy thoughts about that boy and then made the mistake of asking her if her boss had recovered from his owies, he thought she was going to kill him right there in the interrogation room. _It's a good thing they can't bring their guns in here._

 _Martin don't leave me in here!_ , he thought as he listened to the drunks loudly quarreling in the cell next to his. Now they were on to the subject of which is tougher, a wolverine or a Tasmanian devil? There was no way to take a nap.

Last night two other drunks had actually gotten into a fist fight over who had the biggest rack, that blonde who'd made a sex video or one of those Kardashians who'd made a sex video. The blonde used to be an actress on that old TV show _Baywatch_ , he still had no idea what that other one does for a living.

" _Ho Brah! A wolverine don't stand no chance! Doze fuckers is badass!"_ It went on from there. Finally, one of them yelled _"You're lolo!", the other replied, "I'm gonna kick your okole!"_ followed by the sound of a tussle and cheers from those in adjoining cells.

"Martin, you'd better get me out of here soon you asshole!" muttered the solitary prisoner.

…..

Steve, finally allowed out of bed, had been OK'd to walk around if he took it easy. He'd been prowling the halls since before dawn, stopping occasionally to rest on a random bench or chair. Both the night nurse, and her daytime replacement, had tracked him down to give him his meds. Since they hadn't tried to order him back to bed, he assumed they'd taken pity on him.

Though exhausted, it was difficult to sit still. Reading and watching TV only seemed to exacerbate the headache that had yet to go away. Lying sleepless in the semi-darkness of his room only allowed unwanted thoughts that tumbled and collided like ping pong balls in a lottery hopper until they spilled out to reveal their meanings. They were always questions: What is she doing right now? Is she safe? _Does she ever think of me?_ That's why he had to do something other than lay in bed.

After a couple of hours haunting the halls like a ghost in a bad movie, he finally felt wound-down enough to go back to his room and maybe catch a few winks. Turning the corner, he was nearly blinded by the brightness of the rising sun as it flooded through a floor to ceiling window at the end of the corridor. His hand automatically went up to shield his eyes and he groaned as pain spiked through his head.

 _Okay, this shit is getting old!_

Retreating to go the long way around to reach his destination, he hoped the transfusion that's scheduled for a couple hours from now will help. At least it should stop the bleeding in his mouth. He was tired of tasting blood all day; it certainly didn't do his appetite any good. Maybe it would also alleviate the arctic chill that had been almost constant for weeks. Danny had thoughtfully remembered it and included a long sleeved T-shirt in the bag of clothing he'd delivered along with the laptop. Though he's now wearing the t-shirt under a sweatshirt with the additional layer of a fleece hoodie, over it, his body still feels like a block of ice; his feet in particular.

He didn't find his boots in the closet in his room and Danny hadn't brought any footwear with the other stuff. He hoped it was only an oversight rather than indication he wasn't trusted to stay put. Of course, his long time partner knew him well enough by now. If he wanted out, lack of shoes wouldn't stop him.

He looked down and shook his head at his hospital issued footwear. Not long after he'd gotten here he'd been given a pair of orange socks. They'd quickly been replaced when Tina had come in to retrieve them and leave a pair of green ones in their stead, saying, "Wrong color, honey." Then without offering further explanation for the switch, she'd disappeared back into the corridor.

Boredom had driven him to investigate if there was some kind of color coded system for the knitted, slip-resistant, footwear. Using the laptop, he'd done research and found that the orange ones had signified he was a flight risk but green socks meant the patient is independent. He'd take what he could get, even if it was only the color of his socks that proclaimed his freedom from the limits of his body. This anemia thing sucks.

A meeting had been scheduled for later in the day. Danny said he'd try to make it but, of course, it depended on being able to get away from whatever's developing with their cases.

His doctors are going to lay out a proposed treatment plan. Mary had finally been tracked down and tested for compatibility and it wasn't to be. Aunt Deb of course had age and medical issues to rule her out and Doris, as usual, was nowhere to be found. He had no other blood relative to test. If a bone marrow transplant is recommended, he'd have to be put on a national registry to wait for a donor. He'd read somewhere that it's more difficult to find acceptable donors for bone marrow transplants than for organ donation because there had to be a closer match and it could take quite a while before one is found.

Whatever treatment is settled on, this is probably the end of his career in the Navy, if not with Five-0. Again, this anemia thing really sucks.

…..

The hall echoed with emptiness. The gigantic space was as barren as the surface of the moon. Where once had been a self-contained world of show and tell, was now just acres of smooth grey concrete – save for one ten by fifteen-foot rectangle.

 _What the hell?_ thought the general manager as she frowned up at the abandoned edifice occupying a space that should have been vacated yesterday.

Here in the middle of the cavernous hall stood a lone display booth made of large laminated panels. The pieces each weigh seventy-five pounds or so and fit together like a gigantic puzzle. At show's end a crew should have torn it down and packed up the disassembled parts into very large and sturdy crates. Somehow, that hadn't happened.

"I don't know what's going on ma'am. No one ever came to do the tear-down." apologized the trade show coordinator, a harried looking young woman who's fingernails had known better days. Currently, they looked chewed down to the quick.

"So no one ever contacted you about a problem that would prevent a crew from removing this and shipping it out?" asked the woman responsible for all things Loulea Convention Center.

"No ma'am. No one ever notified us of a problem. Of course, we were all kind of distracted by that forklift accident. I hope the poor man didn't have a family depending on him. Did you know the man who was killed?"

"No, never met him. All I know is that he came here from Chicago. He used to work at McCormick Place."

"It's just so sad." said the coordinator contemplating the accident victim for another moment before waving toward the monolith that stood in the middle of the hall. "I'll find out who's responsible for this. When I do, I assure you there'll be consequences."

"I have people who'll handle it." said Helen Delacruz. "Just tie-up your end of things with the NMA. We need to get everything set for the next show in a couple of days. I know someone who can get the best investigators on the island to track down who this belongs to. They've got a lot of resources. I just have to make a couple calls."

"I'll be sure to recommend to the powers that be that this is a wonderful facility to hold the convention. You've included everything needed for a successful trade show."

"Try not to mention the accident." said Ms. Delacruz. "If you were to return here next year, I'll make sure you're taken care of."

"No ma'am. I won't bring it up." answered the coordinator, not quite sure what was meant by 'taken care of' but it couldn't hurt to play along.

"Well, there's still a lot of work to be done with police reports, insurance claims and such. You have a good day." said the manager dismissively before turning to walk toward what looked like a golf cart that would take her to her office.

As the sound of the woman's heels clicking on concrete echoed through the empty space, the coordinator gave one last thought to the teamster who'd been flattened by the forklift. Ugh. _What a horrible way to go._

…..

"Yes sir. We'll get right on it." said Danny into his phone, then rolling his eyes, flung the device none too gently onto his desk. With a frustrated sigh, he strode out to the main room where his team was gathered.

Seeing their interim boss approaching, his brow furrowed in consternation, the three waited for what looked to be bad news.

"That was the Governor." announced Danny, "He's got another case for us."

"We haven't even solved the other two yet!" exclaimed Kono

"Yeah, Danny, doesn't he know we have enough on our plate?" asked Chin

"He knows McGarrett isn't here right?" asked Lou, "'Cause we can't clone ourselves to make up for lack of manpower."

"I know this isn't what you want to hear but apparently he has a friend at Loulea Convention Center who wound-up with an abandoned display booth leftover from the NMA Show."

"And how is that our problem? Especially since we're a man down and are working two other priority cases." asked Chin, not able to hide his irritation.

"It's our problem because he says it is." snapped Danny, patience worn thinner than the brake-pads on any vehicle driven by McGarrett for longer than a month.

"Whoa, Jersey, we're on your side. Remember?" said Lou who raised his hands in surrender.

The temporarily-in-command detective ran a hand through his hair and looked apologetically at his teammates. "I'm sorry if I'm a little cranky lately . . ."

"A little?" snorted Lou, "You could give your partner lessons." The tall dark man was, of course, referring to Steve's sometimes prickly temper – especially of late – that had everyone tiptoeing around HQ. They'd written it off to his not feeling well and there hadn't been even a hint of mutiny.

"Look," began the blonde man, "The art exhibit managed to open without its main attraction which, though it isn't good, gives us a minuscule amount of breathing room. The boy has been found and there are no further reports of some perv stalking children."

"So, you're saying the Governor is bored and needs something else to torture us with?" asked Kono, never one to mince words. _Waay too much like Steve_ , thought her temporary boss.

"That may very well be the case." answered Danny, managing to smile at Kono's assessment. "But this friend of his, Ms. Delacruz, who coincidentally happens to be on the County Board of Supervisors needs a favor." The compact detective, stressed the word favor.

"Why the hell would the Governor pull us off the two biggest cases since forever to do a favor for someone who runs a convention center?" asked Kono

"Oh, Kono, my dear, sweet, child." began Danny, "Have you forgotten that Denning needs approval for his latest big project, building that new trade center where the old water plant used to be?"

Kono, bristling at the Jersey detective's use of the word _child_ , let alone _dear and sweet_ , stopped to think for a moment. Then, changing her mind about ripping Danny a new one, just replied, "Oh. Yeah."

"Well, it's still wrong that he gives us additional work when we're a man down and already have two major cases going." said a disgruntled Chin, the remarks being somewhat out of character.

"I know, I know." said Danny, feeling their frustration. Without Steve, their work load is now almost overwhelming. They really missed their over-amped, overly focused boss right now.

"Danny, didn't Lori Weston offer to help out?" asked Grover

"Yeah" said Kono enthusiastically, "She did offer. Why not take her up on it?"

"She already knows how we work and we know that she's good at the job." offered Chin.

"Sounds like a good idea." said Grover.

"I guess I could temporarily deputize her." said Danny, sounding as though he was talking to himself. "Not sure if that's a good idea though."

"Why not?" asked Lou.

"Well, for one thing, Denning fired her." answered the blonde.

"Who says he has to know?" asked Chin.

"Why not take a page out of Steve's book and just ignore what doesn't work?" smiled Kono, looking forward to once again not being the only female on the team. She also knew that Lori could kick ass with the best of them.

"You mean rip out the page and throw it in the trash along with the rest of the book." corrected the compact detective who regarded his teammates with a sour expression. "Okay, but if this leaks to the Governor before we get a couple of these cases wrapped up, I'll see you in the unemployment line." he huffed; secretly liking the idea of Weston rejoining the team, even if only temporarily.

….

Martin paced in the circle of the decorative medallion woven into the middle of the carpet; doing everything but wringing his hands. "I can't believe this is happening!" he muttered.

One of his spies at the convention center had called to tell him of the 'hitch' in the plans. Thanks to an unfortunate convergence with a fork lift, The Teamster was no more. The booth had remained standing in its space on the convention center's floor.

Still, there was a sunny side: At least the crates had arrived at the ship.

He'd already called to confirm that. Maybe this wouldn't turn out to be such a big deal. There were several layers of protection between himself and the fictional company displaying wares at the trade show. Even if they did manage to trace it back to him, he'd probably be off the island before then.

There was another other issue that nibbled at the edge of his panic before he could calm down enough to recognize it. _Oh, yeah, I still have to get Bob out of jail._

Martin interrupted his orbit on the carpet to stride toward the bathroom. It's where he kept the Xanax.

…..

With Danny beside him, he'd walked, (slowly), from one end of the hospital to nearly the other where the Hematology Department's conference room is located.

The décor in the sunny room is pleasant; the walls painted a soothing shade of blue with the comfortable chairs upholstered in a coordinating color. This is a far cry from the office where they'd first begun the journey presided over by Drs. Fanning and Shan.

"Commander, I'm suggesting this route because the traditional treatment would be very hard on what are already damaged kidneys. This drug has proven not to be quite so damaging to a patient's renal system. It's been approved for treatment of hepatitis C but trials are still ongoing for its effectiveness against aplastic anemia."

"Are there any side effects?" asked Danny

"Research has indicated it could have some unpleasant side effects but none that should be life threatening." said Dr. Fanning, removing his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose where there appeared to be permanent divots on either side where his spectacles usually rested.

"What are the chances of kidney damage if I decide to take the more traditional route?" asked their patient; giving no indication what he thought of the idea.

"Significant I'm afraid." answered Dr. Shan the nephrologist. "I concur with Dr. Fanning. You would most likely need a kidney transplant or be dependent on dialysis if we took the more traditional approach of immunosuppressant drugs alone or with the ultimate goal of a bone marrow transplant. We feel that because of your current precarious renal condition due to both impact trauma and the trauma caused by the drugs that were administered during your umm . . . captivity; this is the least harmful approach".

"What are the statistics for this stuff actually working?" asked Danny as Steve nodded in approval of his friend's question.

"Data has shown it's effective to some extent with the majority of those going through the clinical trial." answered Fanning.

"Some extent?" asked Steve.

"Yeah, how many were actually cured?" Danny added to his friend's question.

"Well, technically, only one out of the thirty-five patients in the study. But there was significant improvement for several more for quite a few months." replied the bespectacled hematologist.

"You mean until they died of aplastic anemia?" asked their patient.

"Umm, yes." answered Tom Fanning as the other physician nodded solemnly beside him.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **I hesitate to promise a specific day for the next update but will try to post it within a week. I hope you'll continue to read this story and that you'll be kind enough to review. If anything needs to be addressed, please let me know. I've taken my anti-anxiety meds.**


	14. The Gates of Hell

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 14

 **Managed to win the battle against Windows 10, (victory may be short lived), so here's the next chapter. Have been at the mercy of Microsoft so haven't been able to reply to your comments on the last couple of chapters. You have no idea how much I appreciate your thoughts on this story and how much your comments continue to shape it.**

 **NOTE: Most of the painfully researched medical stuff is real but had to fudge some of it for the sake of the story.**

 **SPNGran bravely leaped into the unknown once again so that Imaginary Beta could avoid a meltdown. Due to a probably terminal case of OCD, the chapter was messed with after she'd done an exemplary job. Any remaining errors are mine.**

 **Disclaimer: If I was paid for this I'd chuck my laptop at the heads of TPTB at an unnamed company beginning with the letter M and go buy a Mac.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **At the Gates of Hell**

As Steve silently considered what he'd just been told, Danny asked, "If the experimental drug doesn't work, can he still start the other treatment?"

"It may take a while for us to know if the drug is going to be effective or not. Unfortunately, by that time, the anemia could have progressed to a point of no return." answered Dr. Shan, dark eyes conveying only truth with no indication of what he thought of it.

"Patients with this form of anemia usually do well with a bone marrow transplant. Though you don't appear to have a familial match, we may find a donor who comes close enough but it may take some time. It's more complicated than just matching blood types. There are proteins called HLA's on the surface of one's cells that need to match the donor's HLA's nearly perfectly for the transplant to be successful." said Dr. Fanning.

Dr. Shan broke in, "Unfortunately, your illness has progressed to a point where you may not have enough time to find one. That's another reason to consider the new drug."

"We're honestly not trying to talk you into anything." said Dr. Fanning with a pointed look toward his colleague, "We're only trying to lay this out in the most truthful way so that you can make your own decision."

Fanning didn't always like being partnered with the nephrologist. Though they are friends, Lloyd Shan is not always patient and doesn't have much of a bedside manner. This particular patient doesn't have to be finessed into anything. McGarrett knows his own mind and will act accordingly.

"So, you're pretty sure that the drugs used to prepare for a bone marrow transplant will do in my kidneys?" Steve asked for confirmation.

"I'm afraid so but when your kidneys fail, dialysis could sustain you for quite a while. Some people have been on dialysis for many years." replied Dr. Fanning.

Danny had winced inwardly at the use of the word 'when' rather than 'if' regarding kidney failure and blurted out, "What about a kidney transplant? They do those all the time don't they?"

Though the detective had asked the question, Fanning directed his answer to his patient. "Yes, a new kidney would be the best option to retain a relatively normal lifestyle but it may not be so easy."

"Am I even eligible for a kidney transplant? I mean, if this thing may kill me why would they even want to do one? Wouldn't they just consider it a waste?" asked the patient while his friend looked on; disturbed by the use of the word 'waste'.

Despite the SEAL's statements to the contrary, sometimes Danny doubted his friend's sense of self-worth. He considered it a possible factor in some of the more risky situations Steve had gotten himself into lately – like the one that finally put him in the hospital this time. Had Catherine's leaving really screwed him up that much?

Not waiting for an answer he may not want to hear, the blonde spoke up, "Look, if Steve needs a kidney there'll be any number of people willing to be donors. Myself included."

McGarrett turned his head to offer a fond smile to his partner. He knew the man he considered a brother wouldn't hesitate to offer himself as a donor for either bone marrow or a kidney if needed. He'd never even have to ask.

"I've no doubt." smiled Dr. Fanning.

From what the hematologist had observed and from what he'd learned from others who'd had contact with the leader of the Governor's Special Task Force, the man has many friends who wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice a part of themselves to keep him alive. The doctor wonder if he himself had that many people willing to go the distance for him.

Addressing his patient, Fanning said, "In answer to your question of eligibility, if you are cured or considered to be in a stable remission, we may be able to secure a kidney transplant."

"May?" asked Steve quirking an eyebrow as he looked from one physician to the other.

"Even if such a status has been achieved, a history of aplastic anemia could exclude you from receiving a kidney." replied Tom Fanning almost apologetically.

Dr. Shan added, "Securing a place on the transplant list can't be guaranteed. There has to be a determination of life expectancy. If it's decided there isn't going to be a good outcome, you probably wouldn't be eligible for the procedure."

"So, I have to decide whether I want to take the slim chance of being cured with an experimental drug or go with the usual treatment for aplastic anemia. If I choose the experimental drug, by the time we find out if it works or not, I may be up the creek. If I don't choose the new drug and go with the bone marrow transplant, I may or may not find a marrow donor before the anemia kills me and the drugs used to prepare for it will wreck my kidneys. Then, to make it even more suspenseful, I may or may not be eligible for a kidney transplant. And finally, if I don't get a transplant, I'm going to windup on dialysis—possibly for the rest of my life."

Danny's head was nearly spinning from the 'Catch 22' of Steve's unemotional analysis of the facts and their possible outcomes. Neither of the choices presented to his friend fostered optimism. Steve may be screwed no matter which option he chooses.

"Your summation is, unfortunately, correct." sighed Dr. Fanning.

Said Dr. Shan, "Keep in mind that if you don't have a prior match from friends or relatives and you do make it onto the waiting list for a kidney, it could take several years before one is found. In New York right now, the wait for a cadaveric donor is almost ten years."

Tom Fanning once again frowned at the way Shan seemed to be pushing for the new drug. Still, the man was only quoting verifiable facts. This is just a difficult situation. The Commander would most assuredly strive to continue his very active and at times challenging lifestyle. The restriction of being on dialysis would seriously hinder reaching that goal if not preclude it completely.

Danny ran a hand through his hair in unknowing illustration of the stress and frustration his friend had to be feeling right about now.

In the quiet and brightly lit room, Steve silently mulled over his options; his eyes fastened unseeingly on the glass of water that sat on the table in front of him. Sunlight streaming through the large windows caught it like a prism and slivers of achingly pure color broadcast over the table's surface. Perhaps it was a repudiation of the seeming bleakness of this situation. Perhaps a sign of some sort.

Though their patient had given no indication of his feelings, Dr. Fanning could see that the man sitting beside the Commander was becoming more and more anxious as the worrying information was laid out. Breaking the silence in the room, he addressed the blonde man. "Detective Williams, I know this may all seem pretty bleak at the moment but we must be brutally honest about this to allow the Commander to make the best decision for himself."

Danny, startled that he'd been directly spoken to said, "I know. If I look freaked out, it's uh, it's because I am but Steve's used to it."

Before McGarrett could react to his friend's admission, Fanning, once again removing his eyeglasses, looked directly at his patient. Pale grey eyes sincere he said, "Look, Steve, if I may call you that?"

"Of course." answered the patient with a small smile, "Looks like we're going to be spending considerable time together."

Fanning nodded then put forth the conclusion to which he'd come, "Steve, though you are quite ill, you're young enough and, so far, in good enough condition for the experimental drug. The decision is yours but in my personal opinion it's your best chance to be able to continue a lifestyle and profession I'm sure you'd prefer rather than being restricted by your condition."

"I guess you've got me pretty much figured out then." answered Steve, his smile growing wider.

…

"I'm told this was a very popular trade show." said the Hawaiian as they trekked across the concrete to the far side of the cool and dimly lit hall. Their footsteps echoed in the emptiness of the huge venue. After checking in at the convention center's administrative offices, they'd learned that the general manager had gone ahead of them.

"Yeah." said Lou Grover beside him, "A few days ago I saw a news report that said hundreds of exhibitors were here with new products or at least newer versions of old ones. I guess some pretty nifty thingamabobs had been debuted."

"I wonder what kind of thingamabobs were being shown by our problem exhibitor." said Chin who'd spoken to Ms. Delacruz on the phone this morning. Other than reiterating that a display had been abandoned when the NMA show had ended, she'd given no details. When asked, convention center's manager had only vaguely described what Fantasy Formulations had brought to the show; saying only that they were products made of silicone or plastic of some sort.

The big man beside him smiled enigmatically. What Chin didn't know is that his fellow investigator was trying to suppress a smirk if not an outright chuckle. Grover had picked up and read a brochure he'd found lying on the ground near the entrance to the hall and had learned that the Annual NMA Trade Show, (NMA being the acronym for Novelty Manufacturers Association), featured products that ranged from glow-in-the-dark bunny slippers and bacon scented soap to laser-lighted disco balls. It was also the yearly event at which the newest 'marital aids' were presented to potential wholesale buyers from the many adult book stores and 'Love Boutiques' scattered about the mainland. Of course there are several on the island as well but most people pretended they weren't aware of them.

On the far side of the vast space of the main hall they'd finally reached the only structure left standing. Waiting for them was a rather tall woman with a severe haircut and an even more severe expression.

"Ms. Delacruz?" asked Chin.

"Yes, of course." brusquely confirmed the salt and pepper haired woman.

"I'd spoken to you earlier. I'm Detective Kelly of the Governor's Special Task Force and this is Captain Grover." said Chin nodding toward his partner before extending his hand to shake hers in greeting. The woman's grip was startlingly strong. The bones in his hand were scrunched almost uncomfortably before she let it go to shake hands with Grover.

"Thank you for getting here so quickly." said Helen Delacruz, "Sam told me he was sending his best to check into this for me."

"What is it that we can help you with?" asked Lou politely, his hand still feeling the vise-like grip it had been subjected to.

"We seem to have a leftover booth." she said gesturing to the temporary edifice behind her. "We need to find out who the hell it belongs to."

"Don't see a whole lotta mystery here. The big sign says it belongs to Fantasy Formulations." said Grover wondering why there would even be a question considering the name is emblazoned in letters three feet tall on the big sign above their heads.

Ms. Delacruz pinned him with a look that said, _'_ _Don't annoy me with_ _the obvious_ ', before she answered, "We, of course, know the name of the exhibitor but when we tried to contact them, the number they'd given was no longer in service. I suspect that Fantasy Formulations is some sort of fiction."

"Is there an actual physical address listed for this company?" asked Chin.

"Yes, of course there is." she snapped, "I called a contact in Los Angeles and directed them to go to the address listed in our files. He reported back to me that it's only a small vacant office above a strip mall."

"How could there be an exhibitor you don't have a verifiable address for?" asked Lou

"Good question." said Ms. Delacruz

"Have you any idea who actually made the arrangements for 'Fantasy Formulations' to exhibit here?" asked Chin.

"These days it's all done online. One doesn't even have to make a phone call. The office collects all the relevant data. If the name of the company isn't familiar to us, my staff, who've had experience at other convention centers will verify if the exhibitor is actually legit. I don't usually get involved in those things unless there's a problem – like the one standing before you."

The three paused to look at the 'elephant in the room'; a very large and elaborate one.

"I hope that you'll find out who the damned thing belongs to so they can get it the hell out of here. If it's not gone by tomorrow tonight, I'll have my men tear it down. I need to know who to bill for the labor.

"Are the crates here?" asked Chin

"No sign of them." answered the imperious woman. "We'll also have to pay to get some made. This booth is the old-fashioned kind made of very heavy laminate panels so the crates would have to be very large and very sturdy. It will cost quite a bit to build them if we can't find the original crates. Unfortunately, we can't just throw the damned thing away. According to the rules and regs, we have to store them for several months before we can dispose of them."

"How many exhibitors had space at the show?" asked Lou

"Over eighteen-hundred this year. I expect there to be even more next year." said the trade show manager with a hint of pride.

"Quite a crowd." said Chin as Lou nodded next to him.

"Yes, it's a very popular show, a lot of that having to do with it being set in a location with a temperate climate. It's quite the ordeal to hold a trade show in Chicago at this time of year."

"You're tellin' me." said Grover with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, "Been there, bought the T-shirt and wore it under the long Johns I wore under my snow suit."

Grover's remark seemed to crack the icy exterior of the imperious Ms. Delacruz if the slight twitch of her mouth was any indication.

"It's the first major show to be held at the Loulea Convention Center. The Governor and I are confident it will prove to be profitable for the State's budget if we continue to host it and others in the coming years."

"I'm sure it will prove so." agreed Chin.

"Do you know what kinds of products were displayed at this booth?" asked Lou Grover looking up at the black on red logo of two artfully entwined 'F's'.

Helen Delacruz is no prude but she didn't really want to discuss Fantasy Formulations product line. "I'm sure that will be obvious if you look at the dismantled display boards leaning against the back wall of the booth." she said as she gestured toward the arched entrance into the exhibit.

Chin and Lou walked under it toward the back of the booth. The heavily padded plush carpet, a deep sensuous red, felt really good beneath their feet; especially after trudging across acres of concrete.

The booth's walls still held several shelves, (now bare), on which samples had no doubt been set during the show. They'd most likely been purloined by workers from neighboring booths who'd realized there was no one coming to do the tear-down.

The panels are where she said they'd be. Detached from the spaces over the shelves, they were canted against the back wall, the fronts of the large panels of fiberboard faced away from the detectives. Chin reached to flip one of them around to reveal its front. There were several samples still glued or screwed to its surface. The two men stood staring; Chin nonplussed, Grover amused.

Before either man could comment, the Convention Center Manager called out from in front of the booth, "It would probably be best to speak with the NMA coordinator. I have her card in my office and I think she's still on Oahu. Would you gentlemen like to ride there with me so I can get it for you?"

"Uh, sure." said Chin as they walked out from behind the booth toward the vehicle that had brought the manager here. It's quite a distance back to the other side of the hall where the administrative offices are located. The two men felt a bit silly but nonetheless took her up on the offer for a ride.

They followed her to the shiny pink golf cart and climbed in. At this point, any opportunity to take take a break and get off tired feet was welcome. Grover called shotgun and Chin reluctantly took the rear seat.

As Ms. Delacruz steered them toward her office, Chin leaned forward and hissed in Grover's ear, "So that's what the smile was about. You bastard, why didn't you tell me those things were exhibited here!?"

Grover's wide grin almost lit the way across the dim hall as the little vehicle rolled toward its destination.

…...

If only he'd gone with the jewels instead of the art, all this crap could have been avoided. Diamonds are vastly easier to conceal and he wouldn't have had to deal with so many idiots.

He imagined sprinkling the ridiculously expensive bits of compressed carbon on the bed and then lying on it to run his hands through the diamonds to see them sparkle. He'd watch as light fractured into a million shards as he let them drip through his fingers. Sighing loudly, Martin dismissed the fantasy of what could have been.

This time, he'd nearly bitten off more than he could chew. Of course, along with the big payday, there'd been the pleasure of getting one over on the cops. Even the governor's pets, Five-0, hadn't been able to stop to him. Next time though he'd have to contain himself. The thrill would have to be tempered by common sense.

No matter. By tomorrow he'd be off to Lisbon. It's really nice in Portugal this time of year. The weather should be lovely, maybe not as humid as it is here.

He wondered if the caldierada is as good as he remembered it. Perhaps instead of a seafood dish he'd try the Leitoao assado instead. Though they make a really good roast pork here in Hawaii the Portuguese style is more to his liking.

In any case, he can relax and enjoy the downtime. He knows he'll never really retire, these capers are much too addictive. _Ah well_ , he thinks as he takes another sip of the liquid that warms its way down his throat to set up a pleasant fire in his belly, _Here's to the next time_. _Thankfully,_ a _ll I have to do tomorrow before I leave is to bail that idiot Bob out of jail._

…..

"I've never met anyone from Fantasy Formulations." said the harried coordinator who'd met them in the lobby of her hotel; one of the less expensive but still nice establishments in Honolulu.

The young woman dressed in shorts and halter top looked from one cop to the other, her sunburned face tense. Kono had already noted that unpainted nails had been gnawed to the quick. The girl certainly seemed at least a little uptight.

"So the whole thing can be set up without actually having any interaction with the company booking space at the show?" asked Lori Weston. Danny had called her last night after visiting Steve to take her up on the offer to help them out.

"Yeah, it can all be done online now; from the size of the space you rent to put your booth in, to the color of the carpet you rent to put in it."

"Have you had much experience at doing this kind of work?" asked Kono.

"Well, sort of." answered the nervous looking woman.

"Sort of?" asked Lori Weston, her carefully tweezed brows rising.

"Well, yeah. I've actually worked at trade shows before but being in charge of one is new. I have to admit, it's a lot more stressful than I'd imagined." she said with an unsure smile.

There's something going on with this chick, thought the profiler temporarily attached to Five-0. This feels like old times.

…..

Steve, Danny in tow, walked slowly back to his room from the meeting with his physicians. After the remark he'd made to Dr. Fanning he hadn't elaborated on his decision to try the new drug. The rest of the meeting was taken up by planning when and how the treatment is to come about.

Now, with the two of them alone, the detective felt it was time to ask Steve how he wanted to break the news to his team.

"So, Steven," he began as they reached the room his friend had occupied for the last few days, "How are we going to break this to our ohana?"

Steve actually chuckled this time at Danny's use of the word 'we'. Of course his loyal friend would take on some of the burden relaying to their team what may be upsetting news.

"Steve?" asked Danny, puzzled as to why his partner was laughing.

Sobering, the exhausted looking man replied, "I don't know, Danny.", then tiredly plopped onto the bed and closed his eyes against the headache that had made a thunderous return. His vision seemed to be dimming and brightening in time to his heartbeat and he was once again frighteningly exhausted. His gums are bleeding again and it's making him incredibly queasy. He wondered if this is the way it's going to be in the upcoming weeks. The transfusion had seemed to help at first but its effects were surprisingly brief. Tina said they were only going to transfuse one unit right now pending further instructions. Because of a danger of adverse reactions if transfusions are required on a regular basis they are being conservative for the moment.

At seven this morning when he'd had his transfusion it had been only one unit. _We'll see how it goes, sweetie." The large motherly woman had crooned as she'd unhooked him from the line that led to a now empty bag of packed red cells. "Once you decide what your treatment is going to be, your doctors may change the amount and the frequency."_

Thought Steve as he now sat massaging his temples, _The transfusion was only this morning and I already feel like shit._

"I think it's time to let them in on this, Steven. They're all worried about you." said Danny as he took a seat at the side of the bed.

"Yeah, well, they can join the club." said Steve tiredly. "To be honest, D, _I'm_ worried about me. This thing is a bitch."

"I know." said Danny softly, "But we're gonna get through this."

"I hope you're right." chuffed Steve turning his face away from his friend. With every fiber he is now engaged with an enemy threatening to blow his tough guy act all to hell.

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 **Will try to update within a week but, until I beat Windows 10 into submission once and for all, I can't promise it will come about. Please let me know what you think of this chapter. Was all the medical gobbledygook understandable? Tried really hard to make it so.**


	15. Insomnia

Chapter 15

 **Okay. Here we go again. Things are starting to creak into place. Steve still isn't out of the woods by a long shot but there is a bit of progress on all the other stuff. Microsoft and I have arrived at an uneasy truce for the moment so I am endeavoring to catch up on replies to your comments on previous chapters. In the meantime, I offer a group hug of appreciation.**

 **SPNGran was once again the voice of reason and helped organize the chaos. As usual she proofed it and fixed all the errors then I had to go mess with it afterward. All mistakes are mine.**

 **Disclaimer: If I made money from this I could afford to pay my beta more than the occasional caramel macchiato. It's lucky for me that she works cheap.**

 **To quote Jon Stewart: "Insomnia is my greatest inspiration"**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Insomnia**

Now that the plan of action is to use the new drug rather than going for a bone marrow transplant, there's no need to be so concerned about antibodies generated due to repeated blood transfusions. The op is a go.

Fanning had come to check on his patient and seeing the bag on the hook was empty he removed the IV cath from Steve's arm.

Tina was startled that the doctor had done it himself rather than ordering a nurse to remove it as would have so many of the other physicians. Fanning is actually turning out to be her favorite doc here at Queens. He's down to earth, treats people decently, his patients like him and, most of all, he's a damned good physician.

While she gathered up the debris of the completed transfusion, the large woman smiled as she listened to the adversarial conversation between the hematologist and his patient.

"I mean it Steve. You've got to take it easy, _really_ easy, when you get out of here." said the medic as he pressed a large wad of cotton to the crook of Steve's arm then wrapped it tightly with stretch gauze. "Any little nick or cut is going to bleed like hell and you can't afford to even catch a cold right now."

"Well, I don't plan on playing football or spending any time in an Ebola ward." answered the commander, annoyed Fanning felt it necessary to warn him that he needed to behave himself.

"Joke all you want but I'm serious, Steve." said the doctor as he patted the end of the stretchy bandaging down.

"I know." said his patient," but . . ." pausing to swallow saliva that was mostly blood he grimaced as his stomach rolled. The bleeding was supposed to stop after the administration of an additional clotting factor but he supposed it hasn't had time to kick in yet.

Fanning, noticing the expression and the sudden pallor asked, "You feel like you need to hurl?" Then turning to the woman behind him said, "Tina could you get our patient a basin please."

"S'alright, I'm good." said Steve, hoping it was true. "You said you're going to let me out of here tomorrow, right?"

Tom Fanning who'd come to like this stubborn patient quite a bit smiled at Steve's need for reassurance that he'd be released as agreed and replied, "Yes, I'll sign you out but not before you give me your word that you won't do something to worsen your condition and make me look bad."

"Why are you so sure I'll do something stupid?" snapped Steve; agitation prompting him to sit up quickly but previous experience had taught him not to do so. He slowly came to a sitting position and was pleased to find that he isn't lightheaded.

"I'm not saying you're stupid but your reputation for following medical advice isn't the best." said Fanning, lone eyebrow raised as he looked pointedly at the man in the bed.

"You've been talking to my partner, haven't you?" accused Five-0's leader.

"No, I didn't have to. Let's just say that your reputation has preceded you." countered the medic.

"Fine." said Steve, unable to keep annoyance out of his tone, "I promise I'll follow every damned instruction you feel the need to give me. Just don't expect me to salute you."

"The salute isn't required but thank you." responded the hematologist. "Now that I know you'll follow orders and will not engage in any footraces, fistfights or shootouts, I can sleep soundly at night."

"Now I know you've been talking Danny." huffed his patient, "You sound just like him."

….

"So, what did you guys find out?" asked Kono of the two men sitting across from her. The teams had returned from their assignments and were gathered around the table in the break room. This is a working lunch to make the most of their time. Hopefully, they'll be able to go home at a decent hour tonight. Something that hadn't happened in what seemed like months.

"Well", said Lou Grover as he delicately picked up a single French fry and bit off half of it to chew thoughtfully for a moment before answering, "For one thing, we learned there's lotsa weird stuff that gets exhibited at trade shows. I don't think Detective Kelly is ever going to be the same." he added without looking at the man sitting next to him who'd just taken a big bite out of a sandwich and almost choked on it.

"Why's that Cuz?" asked Kono with a quizzical look as Chin coughed his way through the next minute. Handing him her bottle of water, she smiled at her usually unflappable relative. _Well, this sound_ _s_ _intriguing_.

Finally managing to clear his throat he answered, "Kono, I know you're a cop and a grown woman but I'm not talking about those things with my baby cousin."

"That good, huh?" smirked the Hawaiian girl, her dimples making an appearance.

Lori, who'd started tapping away at her phone as soon as she realized Chin was trying to avoid talking about the subject asked, "So, that was the NMA show that ended a couple days ago?", seeking confirmation from the man whose complexion may have reddened from embarrassment rather than from inhaling part of his sandwich.

"Yeah, that's the one." confirmed Grover who'd moved on to his next fry.

Kono appreciated the ex-SWAT captain's restraint. The other three men on the team, without regard for table manners, usually wolfed down whatever was in front of them as though they may never see food again. Until lately anyway.

These days, Steve rarely ate more than a few bites before pushing his plate away. Their leader's appearance reflected his diminished appetite; his clothes hanging much too loosely on his tall frame. Before that thought could escalate, from beside her came a sudden exclamation.

"Wow! Now I see why you don't want to discuss those particulars with Kono, 'The Novelty Manufacturers Association Trade Show' looks like it may have been pretty interesting." said Lori, mischief in her voice as she continued to stare at what she'd pulled up on her smartphone.

"Now you see what?" asked Danny who'd finally gotten off the phone from his latest conversation with their esteemed employer and had come to join them.

Lori, after a couple more taps on the device's screen, turned it toward Kono to show what she'd found pertaining to the wares presented to buyers attending the NMA show.

"Wow, Cuz." exclaimed Kono as she studied the images on the small screen, her smile growing wider by the second. "I see why you're so reluctant to talk. This is quite the umm, range of products." She and Lori made the mistake of catching one another's eye then dissolved into a round of not terribly cop-like giggles. Additional color crept into Chin's tan complexion as Grover smiled around a careful bite of his sandwich.

Plopping into a chair, Danny reached forward to pull the crumpled paper sack sitting in the middle of the table toward him and withdrew the last sandwich. Frowning at what he held he asked accusingly, "Hey, who stole my pastrami?" Distaste plainly in his expression, he slowly and carefully unwrapped the sandwich as though disarming a bomb.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was that yours?" grinned Lori as she teasingly pulled a strip of pastrami from her sandwich and tilting her head back dropped it into her mouth.

"You honestly think I'd order an acre's worth of weeds piled between two slabs of tree bark?" asked Danny as he disbelievingly watched the woman baiting him with her enjoyment of his purloined lunch.

"There's sliced turkey breast and Swiss cheese in there too you know. It's good." claimed the profiler as she dabbed daintily at the corner of her mouth with a paper towel.

"Only Steve would think something this disgusting is good, or even edible." snorted Danny. "If you ordered it, why didn't you eat it instead of stealing my pastrami?"

"I'm sorry Danny, when the sandwiches were delivered, that pastrami smelled so good I couldn't resist." apologized Lori, (looking not even minimally regretful).

"Uh huh. Well, you owe me a New York deli style pastrami, Weston. Don't think I'm gonna forget that." threatened Danny without any real heat.

He actually should be eating healthier. He'd promised Grace he would. His daughter had guilted him into it by declaring that she wanted her father to live long enough to give her away at her wedding. Of course, he'd immediately asked who her intended groom is, telling her, _"It better not be that Bieber kid."_

Grace had assured him she wouldn't even consider the entitled young musician as marriage material if her father promised to be better about his diet. Of course, he had to agree to it. Having that little asshole for a son-in-law would be a nightmare.

"So that I can justify the cost of this lunch that the state paid for, let's talk about what we've learned from our latest field trips – if anything." said Danny, still eyeing his sandwich as though it may explode, "Since I just got off the phone with our esteemed governor, let's start with our most 'important' case first."

Their temporary boss didn't even have to use air quotes to let them know what he thought of what appeared to be the latest bug up Governor Denning's Armani clad butt. Like someone with attention deficit disorder, now that the art show had apparently overcome its initial dip in attendance and the hysteria of the fake kidnapping had died down, he was focused on another issue.

"Wasn't there a fatality during the show?" asked Danny, "Why don't you check that out at the same time to keep from wandering off out of boredom. You've certainly got my permission. Just let HPD know."

"We did briefly look into it." replied Kono, "Looks like a straight up accident. Some poor guy who worked in the crate storage area walked into the path of a forklift."

"You think maybe that's why that booth is still sitting on the floor?" asked Chin.

"We did ask, but the guy was only one of the workers in the storage area. Someone else was in charge of shipping and receiving."

"So nothing then." nodded Danny as he began to dismantle his sandwich; pulling apart the slices of whole grain bread and removing anything that wasn't turkey or cheese. _Maybe I can find some mayonaise to put on this,_ "So, what else did you learn?" he asked as he stood to go toward the fridge.

Lori spoke first, "We went to talk to the NMA trade show manager, Natalie Oster. She didn't have anything for us but I have the feeling she's hiding something."

"Yeah," agreed Kono. "Something's up with with her. She looked way too nervous when we started asking her if anyone even checks the creds of people wanting to buy space at the show."

"Her answer was, 'of course', but she couldn't come up with much of an explanation for how this fictional company even managed to get in." said Lori

"Even if she is hiding something, what could it be?" snorted Lou, "I don't see anyone pulling a major heist of fake cow pies and whoopie cushions."

Clutching a jar of mayo, Danny returned to the lunch table. "Look I know this is a minor investigation and I have no idea why anyone would want to spend their time at a trade show that pushes products like edible underpants." When the four looked at him in surprise, he replied, "What? I read it online."

"We think the death was just an accident." reiterated Kono as she watched their temporary leader smear an alarming amount of mayonaise on his sandwich. "It doesn't seem to have anything to do with anything. The guy just wasn't looking where he was going and stepped into the path of a forklift."

"I still don't get why we're even wasting our time on this stupid thing when we've got a multimillion dollar art heist to investigate and we still have to get to the bottom of why the Keoki kid was taken and stashed with relatives." uncharacteristically grumbled Chin. Possessing the patience of a saint, he'd usually just suck it up and do as ordered.

"As I've said before," answered Danny, "We're investigating it because Denning ordered us to. It's stupid to make it a priority when we've got things of more importance to work on but," he said emphatically as he gestured toward the woman who'd been temporarily brought back to the team, "It's not the worst decision he's ever made."

"You got that right, brah." agreed Chin.

"Dam right." said Kono as Lou nodded in agreement.

"Okay, so moving on," began Danny, having resigned himself to a lunch of 'weeds and tree bark' slathered with mayo, "Kono", he said, "You told Steve that Adam had gone to the home of a big Yakuza boss who was one of his father's business partners and had seen a painting on his wall that had been stolen about seven or eight years ago?"

"Yeah, he said he saw a photo of it in an article in the Honolulu Times. They'd published photos of the paintings taken from the museum and some from other big time thefts. You think it could be connected?"

"I talked about it with Steve and he seems to think there may be something to it. The pool of people with enough money and a heavy duty interest in art isn't that large."

"Speaking of our fearless leader," said Lou, "How's he doin'?"

"He's hanging in there. Said he wants us to come over to his place tomorrow night after he gets out of the hospital. He's got something to tell us.

…..

Museum director Malcom Atwell grinned at how smoothly this had gone down. He isn't a professional but the lure of all that money had been enough to push him into the realm of thievery. It had taken three years to get it done but now he could kick back and reap the rewards.

He'd just come out of the travel agent's office with an armful of brochures depicting exotic and expensive places to spend his money. Of course, he could have researched this all online but it wasn't the same as looking at beautiful glossy photographs of snow covered mountains, white sand beaches, opera houses and five-star restaurants.

Fantasizing about where he'd start his travels, he dismissed the Caribbean islands for now. He lived in Hawaii so the thrill of ocean sunsets and palm trees wasn't all that big a deal. Maybe Tuscany? There were fabulous villas to rent there. He'd already been to Paris a few times and, of course, had visited the Louvre but that was an option he wouldn't rule out. Hmm. Majorca? Of course it's still an island but it's in the Mediterranean. Distracted by the possibilities, he didn't see the black sedan that pulled up next to him.

….

He couldn't sleep. It isn't that he's in pain right now. His headache finally lessened to a whisper rather than a roar and his joints don't feel like someone's injected grit into them. Even his back doesn't ache as badly. That last transfusion had made him feel as though he isn't circling the drain as it were.

He'd been standing looking out the window for a while now. He doesn't know how long and doesn't much care. He doesn't have anywhere to be and, other than the necessity of keeping his medications on schedule, there's nothing else to prompt a sense of time. The light outside was long gone and had been replaced by the glow of streetlamps. From this, the fourth floor, he could see dots of yellow light tracing orderly pathways toward the sea.

It's out there in the dark. He can't see it right now but there's comfort in knowing it's waiting for him when he finally gets out of here. He'd missed the water. The sound of it. The feel of it coolness wrapping around him when he dove through its waves. No matter what shit had rained down on him, he could always find escape in its vastness.

There are some things however that he may never escape from. Memories. If he closed his eyes he could still see her waiting for him on the sand. She'd stay there until he'd swum away enough of whatever troubled him. Sometimes it could take a while but she was always there when he'd return to shore. She'd smile and hand him a towel; more than once telling him he belonged in the sea more than he'd ever belonged on land. At least he belonged somewhere; if not to someone.

He's not a kid. It's not like the hurt of being dumped right before the prom that may take a summer to get over. This is an ache that never goes away. Nights are the worst time but when the sun comes up there's the hope that maybe today is the day it will finally be better. Maybe that weight won't be there to smother him when darkness falls again.

 _I need to get over this dammit!_ he tells himself. _O_ _bviously,_ _I've_ _got other things to worry about like,_ _you know,_ _surviving._

He had no second thoughts about his choice of treatment. Being on dialysis would certainly interfere with life as he knows it. He'd probably have to give up Five-0 and it would end his career with the Navy. Still, it brings up the question; which is worse; not living life as he wants it or not living at all?

Whatever happens he knows he has to stop obsessing over someone who doesn't want him. It's just plain stupid, if not self-destructive. He shakes his head disgustedly at his ongoing failure to control his emotions and turns away from the window.

Kamekona will be picking him up in the morning. He'd called the big guy to ask for a ride.

At Danny's last visit, he could see that stress is taking a toll. The guy sorely needs a break from 'babysitting'. With the newest crap Denning had foisted upon the team along with ongoing cases, he's pretty sure Danny isn't getting much sleep. His overall haggardness and the shadows beneath his eyes are pretty good indications he's not.

The scrappy detective is familiar enough to the staff here at Queens that he usually ignores the posted visitor guidelines. One of the more hidebound nurses on the floor had challenged him one night when he'd shown up long after visiting hours were over.

Luckily, Tina was on shift and had flat out told the stickler, _'_ _Rhonda, honey, i_ _f you don't allow Detective Williams to see Commander McGarrett, at least one of the two_ _of them_ _is gonna make you sorry.'_ Rhonda had reluctantly let him pass and the next day, Fanning issued orders that it was okay for members of Five-0 to come and go as they pleased provided they didn't interfere with their friend's treatment.

Sighing, he lowered himself into the chair next to his bed. The tray that was usually the one he ate his meals on while in bed was now adjusted to a lower height and could be accessed from the chair. Pulling the laptop toward him, he signed on and scrolled through the list of files. _Crap!_ He just remembered that he'd promised to look into that stupid traffic situation at the Convention Center. He'd no idea why Denning even wanted to have them look into a solution. Maybe it was because his dickhead traffic commissioner/proctologist wasn't up to actually doing his job. Go figure.

Well, he had nothing else to do. He knew sleep most likely wouldn't come until just before dawn when he'd finally wound-down enough for his mind to stop its hyperactive hamster-on-a-wheel activity. With a small growl of annoyance he opened the file marked, 'Traffic Shit'. A title no doubt bestowed by Danny though he wouldn't put it past Kono either.

A map of the new convention center and the area surrounding it popped up. He disinterestedly clicked on it to enlarge the image. He was still amazed that the powers that be had agreed to relocating the district court building along with the consumer protection office next to it. Money certainly speaks with a loud voice. The streets affected by the congestion: Alakea, Hotel, Richards and Beretania really didn't need the additional traffic. How could they not have planned for the mess it was going to make?

He shook his head as he clicked on the 'earth' view. Brow furrowed, he peered intently at the screen. He'd never realized how close the Loulea Convention Center really is to the State Museum. They're right across a small street, barely more than an alleyway from one another. Zooming in a bit more, he saw that the two buildings seemed to share a common roadway off of Beretania that lead to the rear part of each structure.

Hmm. He quickly accessed the data base of building plans for all public buildings in the state. For security purposes, it was only available to fire departments and law enforcement. Finding the diagram of the Loulea Convention Center, he then accessed the map of the State Museum.

Suddenly he wasn't bored anymore.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Let me know what you thought of this, if you'd be so kind. Anything I should have addressed that I didn't? Lots going on in the next chapter. I've gotten a couple of great suggestions that I'm going to work into the story. Your ideas are gold.**


	16. Sleepless in Honolulu

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 16

 **I know this update has been a long time coming but RL is once again imposing upon my preferred sense of being. This isn't quite what I'd promised but posted it so you don't think I've abandoned you. I must remember that while sleep deprivation may help one's creativity, it does not help when filling out one's tax return.**

 **Imaginary Beta must take the hit for any errors in this final version and you can probably tell from the first paragraph that she's been on a diet for a week.**

 **Disclaimer: If I made money from this, I'd fund research to find a way to ensure that calories don't count and one can remain at optimal weight despite eating pizza, cake, and ice cream. Of course, both the money and the medical miracle are only fantasies.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Sleepless in Honolulu**

He was surrounded by them. Piled high on the table in front of him was a mountain of sandwiches and on the table next to that were huge icy tubs filled with Longboards. A table to his left held rows of creamy chocolate milk shakes and on the next; steaming hot cappuccinos. To his right were bakery boxes filled with cocopuffs and malasadas - and not a pineapple in sight!

He selected a hot pastrami from the tray nearest him. There was another pile of cold deli-style pastrami on rye next to it but he'd start with the hot ones first. Steam rose as he tore off the paper wrapper. The scent of mustard mixed with the tantalizing aroma of the meat filled French roll as he brought it closer to take a bite. Mouth watering, he closed his eyes and moaned in ecstasy when, suddenly, a clanging loud enough to wake the dead rent the air and his eyes flew open to see a large hand reaching out to snatch away his sandwich. _No! Give it back!_ He yelled as it was ripped from his hands. The sandwich, along with the rest of the food, disappeared into the night as the nerve jangling sound continued.

Without turning his face from where it was buried in his pillow, he blindly reached for his cell on the nightstand. He drew it toward him and brought it to his face; having to blink several times before he could make out the image of the bastard who'd interrupted his dream of Nirvana. "Dammit, Steve." he groaned then hit the answer button and rolled over to look at the clock.

"Hey, you okay?" he answered with concern despite his ruined sleep.

"Danny! I think I've got something!" Declared his friend much too excitedly for this hour – or any hour as far as he was concerned. Steve never got excited unless it was about the latest issue of _Guns and Ammo_.

"It's five fucking o'clock in the morning, Steven! What you've _got_ had better be the answer to world peace or next time I visit you it's gonna be with a friggin' ax."

"Sorry, princess." replied McGarrett sounding not the least bit remorseful. "I couldn't sleep."

"So you thought it was a good idea to call me to share in your misery?" grumped the blonde.

"I think I've come up with something regarding the art theft."

"Uh, what?" asked Danny as his brain finally started to fully come back online.

"You gotta come get me so we can go check it out." stated McGarrett as though there'd be no protest to his plan.

"Whoa, whoa! You're not going anywhere until your doctor signs you out." said Danny, now fully awake and sitting up to swing his feet over the side of the bed.

"But . . ." began Steve in protest.

"Nuh uh, Rambo." growled the sleep deprived detective, "You're staying put. You do know you've got a team to do your bidding, right?"

Danny could almost see his partner running his hand through his hair in annoyance; making it stick up every which way. The man is an animal.

"Danny, we have to check this out! I'm almost positive this is going to wrap up at least two cases. One of them isn't as minor as we thought."

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, the detective replied, "Once again; your ass is staying put until you have a piece of paper in your hand that says you can leave the hospital. Even then, the only place you're going is home."

"Danny, if you don't come get me . . ." growled Five-0's sidelined leader before he was interrupted by its temporary leader.

"Look, Rambo, I don't care if you threaten me, small furry animals or homeless orphans; I'm not aiding and abetting your escape! YOU are in the hurt locker right now and if you don't tell me what's got your tail on fire, I'm gonna go back to lala land!"

The detective knew there is no going back to sleep now that his friend has agitated him into coming fully awake. _Everyone works on four hour_ _s a night, r_ _ight?_

After a loud exhale of frustration Steve grumbled resignedly, "Remember that file you sent me? The one labeled 'Traffic Shit'?

…

He woke to someone yelling, "They're after me! Get 'em away! They're chewing on me!"

 _Shit! The tweakers are at it again. Or maybe it's the drunks? Nah, the voice is too frantic and isn't slurred enough so it has to be someone cranked out of his mind._

Bob pulled the thin pillow over his head but it didn't help. He could still hear the sound of the freak-out going on a couple cells down. Growling, he sat upright to join the chorus of voices protesting the ruckus. "Shut the hell up, dammit!' he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Yeah! Shut up you freak, or when I'm outta here I'm gonna find you and put my foot down your fuckin' throat!" yelled someone from a cell across the corridor, (probably that antsy little guy with the loud shirt who'd come in yesterday).

"You meth heads are a waste of air! Just fucking die already!" shouted someone else.

"Yeah, you shithead! Quietly!" added another someone from a few cells away.

Sitting bleary eyed on the hard bunk, Bob came to a decision. _I_ _f_ _Mart_ _y_ _d_ _oesn't get me_ _out of here today, it'_ _s_ _time to pull the plug! The bastard is probably lying asleep_ _right now_ _on some soft mattress in a_ _fancy_ _hotel. He's certainly not listening to drunks and tweakers trying to wake the dead in the middle of the fucking night!_

Looking up at the small mesh-covered window high up on the wall, he could see a dim light beginning to glow through the thick glass. "Shit," he muttered. _"It's dawn. There's no way I'm gonna be able to fall back to sleep."_

….

What he'd learned from Steve, had him rushing to get in the shower and get dressed. He'd have a cup of coffee, pull up a copy of the file he'd given to Steve and read it instead of watching the morning news to get ready to face the world. Then he'd call the team. He hated to get them out of bed so early but this could be the break they've been looking for.

Squinting his eyes at the glowing display on his laptop, he clicked to zoom in on the map and could see what Steve was talking about. The museum and the convention center were built so closely together that they shared the same shipping and receiving area. How hard would it be to switch crates and ship one filled with paintings instead of the parts of a display booth?

After another few minutes of clicking on plans and diagrams as he drank a final cup of coffee, he was just about to start rousting his team out of bed when his phone buzzed in the other room. Frowning, he went to retrieve it from the night stand. He was expecting to see his partner's face on its screen; the shot he'd taken right after asking some purposely random question hoping to get 'puzzled puppy face' as a reaction. It worked. He used the snap for Steve's caller ID.

Picking up the cell, he instead saw the number he recognized as HPD's. "Williams." he answered.

"Danny!", it was Duke's voice, "Something's happened that might be connected to a case you're working on. I'm on my way to the scene."

"Shit. What now?" muttered the detective in response.

…...

"So, I'm free to go, right?" asked the patient, trying not to show how antsy he is to get the hell out of this place.

"I'll see you day after tomorrow, Steve." said Fanning as he signed the sheet of paper that officially released his patient. "Your appointment is set for eight AM."

His patient, anxious to leave for more than the usual reasons, responded, "I'll be there but do I really have to bring someone with me? I'd rather do this alone."

"Maybe at the appointment after this one but, for the initial dose, it's best to have someone with you. We don't know how your body is going to react yet." said the hematologist.

"I guess I can find someone to come with." replied McGarrett reluctantly.

"It's best to have someone drive you this first time. As I told you even before you'd agreed to go this route, it can be pretty uncomfortable."

"Yeah, _uncomfortable_. Last time you told me that was during the bone marrow biopsy when I thought you'd driven an ice pick through my hip." snorted McGarrett.

"Didn't want to scare you." said Fanning facetiously. "I've actually had a couple of patients take off when they caught a look at the needle. Jumped right off the table. All I saw was a bare bottom disappearing down the hallway."

"Literally hauling ass, huh." laughed Steve as he pictured the escape.

"Well, I'm fairly certain you'll stay put," said the medic, his pale eyes crinkling behind his glasses. Then becoming more serious he added, "A few of the people in the trial had negative enough reactions that painkillers were needed; a couple of them required the heavy duty variety."

"Don't worry, I'm sure I can find someone to hold my hand." said Steve though he certainly wasn't looking forward to what may lay ahead or to have someone witness it.

"From what I've seen of the people on your team, I'm sure there'll be a waiting line to play chauffeur." nodded Fanning. "Just don't do anything that will bring you back here sooner than need be. I'm only letting you go with your promise to follow the rules listed in the paperwork. Make sure you read it." The astute physician knows that, despite McGarrett's outward calm, the man is vibrating with the need for escape. He needs to make sure the Commander is aware of what's expected once he's out of the hospital.

Steve quickly shuffled through the paperwork until he found a sheet titled, 'Patient Instructions'. Glancing through it while standing there he snorted, "You're a funny guy, Tom."

"I think so." smiled Fanning, "But you really do have to follow those rules."

On the sheet he'd just read, under the heading 'YES' were listed the words: rest, eat, avoid stress, sleep at least eight hours. Under the heading 'NO', (the word underlined): alcohol, running, jumping, alligator wresting . . .

"Alligators? Really?" snorted McGarrett

"With you, I have to be pretty specific. Not taking any chances." replied Fanning as he took one last look at the stats on the latest blood-work then motioned for Steve to lift his shirt so he could check the bruising one last time.

"Breathe for me." he said as he pressed a stethoscope against his patient's chest.

McGarrett did as ordered and took several slow, deep, breaths.

He moved the device around to the back and listened for another moment. "Good" he murmured then addressing his patient said, "There was a little congestion a couple days ago but I don't hear it now. Those antibiotics worked."

"Yeah, about those . . ." began Steve

"Save it." Fanning cut him off, "You have to take them for now and probably for quite a while yet."

"They really screw with my stomach." complained the patient in a tone dangerously close to a whine.

"Steve, they're the only reason I'm letting you out of here. Because your immune system is barely functional, we have to be proactive about you picking up any stray bugs. Also on that list is that you try to avoid going out into crowds and places where you can contract any sort of respiratory viruses and etcetera. Don't push it."

The patient shrugged in acceptance. He wasn't opposed to taking antibiotics but he really didn't need anything else that would make him nauseous. Right now, so many things had the potential to kill his appetite.

"I know you're having trouble eating. You've even lost a couple more pounds since you've been here, which is not good, but the antibiotics are extremely important right now. I wish there were alternatives but unless you get them IV or come in for a daily injection, what we have you on is best for keeping you relatively sound – in good enough condition to begin the new drug."

"Yeah, okay." grudgingly agreed his patient. "I'll suck it up. I promise I won't whine about it." He didn't relish being being attached to a bag of IV meds or being a human pin-cushion though he knew that was probably how his life is going to go for at least the near future.

"Steve, I don't think you're whining. What you're actually doing is letting us know if we need to change anything to make you more comfortable and to make this treatment successful. We don't want you to just 'suck it up'. You have to let us know how you're feeling so that we can make whatever adjustments are possible. Don't be a tough guy and hide things that may have a bearing on your treatment."

Steve nodded in agreement. Though he actually did realize the importance of communicating any physical issues he may be having, he'd pretty much say yes to anything if it meant he'd be able to get out of here.

Then, Fanning traded his frown of concern for a smile. "Look at it this way, at least you have a free pass on what you want to eat. You'll need as many calories as possible so if you feel like eating hot fudge sundaes six times a day, you have my blessing. You can even have cheeseburgers and fries for breakfast if you want."

"Only Danny would find that appealing." said Steve with a roll of his eyes.

"Look, if I thought my wife would allow it, that's what I'd be eating." chuckled Fanning.

Just then, the light from the doorway was blocked by something huge. Kamekona had arrived.

"Your taxi awaits." announced the Hawaiian who'd somewhat reluctantly agreed to provide transportation. Hospitals always made him uncomfortable.

Fanning turned to see one of the most physically imposing people he'd ever met. It isn't that the man is monumentally overweight, he's gigantic in bone structure as well.

"This is my friend Kamekona." introduced Steve, "Kamekona, this is Doctor Tom Fanning."

Fanning extended his hand to shake. Though he himself isn't a small man; his hand was lost in the huge paw of the one to whom he'd been introduced.

"So, you da one who's takin' care of da Big Kahuna." said Kamekona sizing up the sandy haired man and nodding in what appeared to be approval.

"Yup, that's me." smiled Fanning, "Well, me and about a hundred other people."

"He's still standing so I guess you doin' a good job.", then turning to his friend the big man asked, "What's with the Kermit shoes?"

Puzzled at the reference, Steve looked down at his feet. He had to smile. He'd forgotten about the green hospital socks he was still stuck with and once again noted the irony of the footwear. _Green means the patient is in_ _dependen_ _t?_ _Well, r_ _ight now, maybe not so much._

"He looked up to see the quirked eyebrows of the big man and the grin on his doctor's face, "Danny didn't bring me my boots when he dropped off some clothing a couple days ago."

"Da little haole ain't stupid." nodded Kamekona knowingly, "But I know dat not havin' appropriate footwear wouldn' stop you if you wanted out."

Fanning nodded his agreement with the big man's statement but before Steve could reply, Tina bustled in with a plastic bag of what had to be at least ten to twelve pill vials. "You got that right." she said to Kamekona, "Every time I come into his room, I'm surprised the Commander is still here and hasn't gone AMA."

Then addressing McGarrett she said, "Honey, Danny asked if I could do him a favor and make sure you went home with your meds. He called and gave the hospital pharmacy a credit card, yours I think he said, to pay for these and asked if I could pick them up for you. He said he'll see you later tonight. Oh, and he said to behave."

With a chuff of annoyance, Steve accepted the bag of medications. He hadn't noticed the card missing from his wallet but Danny had probably removed it while he'd been sleeping or off taking tests. Actually, with all the reports he's signed 'Steven McGarrett', the man is a master at forging his signature. No one would even question it if compared to the real one.

"Uh, thanks, Tina." he said, scowling at being so closely managed. He'd have to have a talk with Danny about that – and retrieve his credit card.

Seeing her patient's expression, the nurse said, "Honey, I know that little blonde man can annoy the stuffing out of a teddy-bear, but he only has your best interest at heart."

"That he can." agreed Steve before reluctantly admitting, "And I know he's only trying to help. I just wish he'd take it down a notch."

"I'm glad you're finally getting to go home. I know you've been looking forward to getting out of here." she said in understatement, "You take care of yourself, now." He was suddenly drawn into in a hug that felt as though he'd been engulfed by a warm, giant, foam pillow. "And don't let me see you back on this floor again!" she scolded.

"Yes, ma'am." he mumbled into the abundance of her embrace. When she released him and he'd recovered the breath to speak he said, "Don't worry, Tina. Apparently everyone I've ever met is watching me to make sure I don't screw up."

"Just roll with it, honey. We all want to see you healthy again - especially the ladies." added the nurse with the suggestive raising of an eyebrow.

Fanning chuckled at McGarrett's look of discomfort. Despite his bouts of irritability, the Commander is apparently quite popular among the female nursing staff, (and at least one of the males as well). He'd overheard some of their remarks the last few days when he'd come onto the floor.

When a wheel chair was rolled in by one of the aides he started to protest but shut his mouth when both the big nurse and his doctor cocked their eyebrows at him. Kamekona only looked ready to support whatever action McGarrett took, even if he flat refused to use the chair. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd backed his friend's questionable decisions. He still regretted supplying the man with firepower a few years ago when he'd gone to confront the late Governor Jameson. That hadn't worked out all that well but neither McGarrett nor Williams had ever revealed the source of the weapons.

"Come on," said Fanning gesturing toward the chair, "Get in it and I'll follow you downstairs. I made myself hungry with all this talk of cheeseburgers and sundaes and the cafeteria's on the ground floor. As to what my lunch is going to consist of; what my wife doesn't know won't hurt her." he winked conspiratorially.

Following McGarrett seated in a wheel chair pushed by an aide was a small parade with the tall sandy-haired doctor, large cocoa-hued nurse and the even larger Hawaiian entrepreneur making their way down the corridor to the elevators.

 _Free at last!_ thought the man in the chair. He'd be out of here in minutes; able to breath unfiltered, unrefrigerated air and he could finally lose these fucking socks.

Tina stayed with him at the front entrance while Kamekona went to get his battered vehicle. As he sat there, the sun felt like heaven on his still chilled body. He wasn't as cold as he'd felt before the transfusion but it still didn't feel as though his blood had warmed.

With one last goodbye from his nurse, (this time without it being accompanied by a smothering hug), they were on their way. As he settled himself on the worn seat he turned to his friend, "Any chance I can get you to take me to work?"

The big man frowned as he exited the hospital parking lot onto Punchbowl Street. "I dunno, brah. I'm too opio 'n nohea to die!", he declared which made his passenger grin. Kamekona had just called himself young and handsome. "Da little haole is gonna be plenty pissed if I take you dere. "

"He'll get over it." assured Steve while thinking, _maybe . . . eventually._ _Anyway, I'm not actually going to involve myself in anything strenuous. What could it hurt?_

 _*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*_

 **Quite a bit of the next chapter is complete but can't promise when it will be posted. Know that I've never yet abandoned a story and that I appreciate your patience. Reviews - positive or negative - are much appreciated.**


	17. Seemingly Seamless

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 17

 **Here's a long one. I'm not terribly happy how it turned out but, hopefully, the next one will be better. Steve still has lots of trouble to get into.**

 **Thanks to joyfuljaj for the reminder that Steve needs shoes and to SPNGran for a quick lookover to see if this made sense. Told her not to worry about the typos for they are many and unconquerable.**

 **Disclaimer: Writing for the fun of it. Apparently I'm a bit of a masochist.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Seemingly Seamless**

Like the call of a seabird, a scream floated above the dark water surging toward land to spend itself on the jagged rocks. An early morning hiker looked down from the trail cut into the cliff face to see a corpse tumbling like seaweed in the waves to wash up on a sliver of sand at the base of the palisades overlooking the Pacific.

"So, you sure it's the museum director?" asked Danny as he stood next to Duke Lukela and a small gathering of mostly uniformed cops. There were also a couple of guys in plainclothes that Danny recognized as homicide investigators from HPD.

The Makapu'u Point Lighthouse is perched at the edge of a 400 ft. escarpment overlooking Molokai Channel. They'd all had to hike up the paved path from the small parking area then make their way down the steep trail that led to the water. The Jerseyan had no idea why anyone would purposely subject themselves to the possibility of a tumble most likely ending in a painful and messy death. The view from the clifftops is just fine as far as he's concerned.

"ID found on the body says it's him." stated the veteran sergeant to the detective beside him. "It's kinda hard to tell though. Looks like the sharks got to him even before he was scraped almost skinless by the rocks."

"I'm gonna say it's a sure bet he was dead before he got to his exfoliation appointment." said Danny as he bent down to examine what was left of Malcolm Atwell. A neat, round, hole was visible equidistant between filmy eyes that looked up at a sky no longer streaked with dawn. The dead man's face is frozen in surprise but most likely not from an unexpected meeting with a shark; at least not the kind that swims in the ocean.

Danny had actually met the museum director that one time but visual ID was a little iffy due to the abrasions and deep punctures on the face. At the moment, it didn't much resemble the photo on the driver's license retrieved from a soggy wallet. There'd also be a problem taking any fingerprints since there were no fingers to take them from.

Despite viewing countless bodies at countless crime scenes over the years Danny shuddered within while thinking that at least Max would be happy having a puzzle to work out.

"So, what do we have, Danny?" asked Chin as he strode up to the morbid scene on the formerly peaceful spot. He'd gotten the early AM call to meet his interim boss here on the windward side of the island. Kono and Lou could have come as well but Danny decided they were needed elsewhere. Lori was to 'man' the office for the moment using the resources and technology available to Five-0 to find what she could about any possible connection between personnel at the convention center and those at the museum.

"What we have is a dead body and an intriguing theory about two of our cases. Our friend here," said the blonde, gesturing toward the body lying at their feet, "pending positive ID, is the director of the State Museum. Steve and I had interviewed him the day the theft had been discovered."

"Looks like won't be be able to answer any further questions though." replied Chin, bending down to more closely examine the body. "Last I heard, sharks don't carry guns so I'm betting this could have something to do with the missing stuff."

"Exactly," replied Danny, "Steve, the asshole, called me before dawn this morning with a theory. He thinks there's some connection between the art heist and the leftover display booth at the convention center."

"So, even laid up, Steve is still on the job, huh?," replied Chin with a faint smile.

Danny, with a slow side-to-side shake of his head and admiration in his voice replied. "When the Neanderthal puts his mind to it he can really bring it; I mean when he's not doing his best to get me killed. I think he may be on to something."

"I guess it's not out of the realm of possibility the two are connected. The buildings are right next door to one another." Then gesturing to the pile of ruined flesh at their feet, the Hawaiian added, "This certainly ramps up the game."

…..

After a quick stop at what was essentially a convenience store, Kamekona had dropped him off where requested. Declining to hang around for the fireworks he'd said, "Da little haole gonna go all pupule when he sees you. I doan wanna see no blood, brah. You gonna have to find your own ride home." With that he'd driven off before Steve even made it up the steps to the entry.

 _Chicken_ , thought McGarrett as he entered the building; his new footwear slapping across the marble floor as he made his way to the foot of the stairway. He stood at the bottom looking upward for a moment then, with a frustrated huff, shook his head and walked toward the elevator. He felt better but not well enough to make the short climb to the floor where the office is located.

With a ding, the lift stopped at Five-0's floor. He checked his pockets one last time. On the way here he'd split the pill vials up to more easily conceal them in his pockets. He just had to remember to walk smoothly enough so he didn't sound like a human maraca.

Taking the few strides to the doors etched with Five-0's logo, he pulled them open to see Lori standing at the smart table. The profiler looked up; at first looking startled to see him before her eyes narrowed to survey his appearance. Despite whatever her conclusion, a smile blossomed on her face.

As he crossed the space between them, the subject of her evaluation thought, _At least_ _I ditched the_ _'Kermit shoes'_ , (the term Kamekona had used for the hospital socks).

Unfortunately, the only choice of substitute foot gear in his size at Aloha Stop 'N Shop is also green – bright green – but at least they weren't knitted.

"Hey Weston." he greeted with a big smile of his own as he strode up to her, his new slippahs not yet broken in enough to not make that flip-flop sound.

"Steve! What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the hospital or at least home resting?" she asked; though not accusingly.

Despite being pale and thin, her former boss _is_ looking a bit better than when she'd visited him at the hospital. His cargo pants hung loosely on his hips and instead of his usual boots he wore a pair of neon green flip-flops. Most noteworthy is the long-sleeved shirt with a jacket layered over it. This morning's forecast calls for another day of eighty-five degree temperatures and it's already heating up.

"I had to stop by to talk to Danny." he said he came to stand beside her, "But I don't see the Camaro in the lot."

"Something came up this morning and he's out checking into it." she said, not knowing exactly how much she should reveal about the discovery of Atwell's body.

"Oh, okay. I guess I can hang around for a while to wait for him." He knew Danny wouldn't be happy to see him, (probably an understatement), but he was hoping to at least talk him into a ride-along to the convention center.

"So, how are you feeling?" she asked

"Not too bad actually. My back doesn't hurt much anymore and the doc signed me out." he answered truthfully.

"That's great." she smiled, "But shouldn't you be resting up for later? Aren't we supposed to be at your house tonight? I hear you're providing dinner."

"Uh, yeah. Not promising a gourmet meal but I need to talk to you guys about something." he replied as he glanced around the room for the others. "Where is everyone?"

"Kono's on her way to re-interview the NMA trade show manager at her hotel and Danny and Chin are, um, somewhere on the windward side of the island." answered the profiler. _Danny will have my head if I spill too much._

"And Lou?"

"He's off to talk to the guy we're still holding for the kidnapping. Apparently he's ready to give us more information as to what was behind the kidnapping."

"It'll be good to finally put that one to rest." he nodded while recognizing the profiler's evasiveness and thinking, _I'll have to talk Weston into playing poker some time._ _F_ _or someone who's_ _so_ _good a_ _t_ _reading other's_ _deception_ _she isn't_ _all that great_ _at hiding her own_ _._

"You guys sound busy." he said while leaning casually on the smart table. He's already running out of steam and his knees are beginning to ache from just the small amount of walking he'd done.

"Hey, why don't we sit and shoot the breeze for a few minutes?" suggested Lori. She didn't miss that he'd rested against the edge of the table while his expression tensed as though in pain. Encouraging him to get off his feet wouldn't hurt and now that they had a few minutes, maybe she could subtly feel him out regarding the Cath situation.

They settled in his office; Steve feeling at home again. He never thought he'd be glad to be sitting behind a desk instead of being out in the field but from just from the little bit of walking and the short time standing on the hard granite floor, his knees and hips are starting to protest. He couldn't take aspirin because it would thin his blood even further which isn't good for the bleeding issue but Tylenol didn't seem to help all that much. He'd have to think about taking one of the many pills stashed in his pockets.

If he waited around long enough, maybe Danny would return and they could get the yelling over with. It might be a good idea for Lori and Chin to be here because Danny wouldn't kill him in front of witnesses. At least he didn't think he would. He also wasn't sure if the other members of his team wouldn't join in on the beatdown for coming to HQ.

Though he's enjoying the conversation with Five-0's temp, he knew Lori is trying to keep something from him. He'd been unsuccessfull in steering the conversation toward what Danny and Chin are investigating and Weston had tried to entice him into a discussion of nine millimeter handguns; debating who manufactured the best ones, Sig Sauer or Hechler and Koch.

Finally, having run out of patience with the evasiveness he came right out and said it. "Okay, Weston, let's cut the crap. What's going on with Danny and Chin? What are they investigating?"

"Steve, you um . . . you know we're not supposed to discuss any cases with you." stammered the profiler; looking distressed that she had to even mention it.

"That's bullshit! I know Danny ordered you not to tell me but I must remind you that I'm still the boss." He could feel his face growing heated.

Startled at the sudden demand for information as well as the conviction with which it had been stated, she saw the determination in his eyes and warred with herself. _Danny might kill me but Steve's right, he's entitled to know what's going on._ "Yeah, I agree. It's bullshit." she said, "You don't need to be treated like a five-year-old."

"Thanks for recognizing the obvious." snorted McGarrett then losing steam he said, "I'm sorry. I know you're under orders and you guys are only trying to protect me but I've had enough."

Nodding and taking a deep breath Lori replied, "It looks like the museum director Malcom Atwell was murdered and his body washed up at Makapu'u Point. They can't tell for sure yet if it's him but that's the ID that was on the body. Max still has to confirm it. The body had sustained a lot of damage and there wasn't any way to make a visual ID. Fingerprints aren't an option either."

"Sharks?" he asked

"Yeah, sounded like." she answered

The phone rang. It was the land line that could be answered from any of the desk phones in the office.

"Shouldn't I get that?" asked Lori as her former boss reached toward it, "You're not supposed to be back yet." she whispered as though there were someone in the room who shouldn't hear.

Rolling his eyes, he gestured for her to pick up.

"Five-0. This is Weston." she answered. He saw her wince. "Yes sir. No sir. Umm . . . Detective Williams is out in the field. Yes sir, it's a um surprise to speak with you as well. No sir. We've been very busy following up on those cases and were short-handed because Commander McGarrett is still . . ."

She winced again as she listened to what was probably his comment on his absence or her return.

"Really sir, I'm sure it was only an oversight . . ."

Steve gestured for her to hand over the phone and, rather than getting into a wrestling match over it, the profiler hesitantly relinquished it to him.

"Governor, this is Commander McGarrett. I'm sorry if there's been a misunderstanding, sir."

Lori frowned as she listened to Steve's end of the conversation.

"I just arrived at the office, sir, and haven't had time to speak with Detective Williams as yet." said Five-0's leader.

"Governor, I was the one who requested that Ms. Weston be retained to assist Five-0 while I was temporarily incapacitated."

Lori knew Denning must have asked why the hell she's here when he'd dismissed her three years ago. _That's a valid question, I suppose._ thought the profiler.

Steve listened further; his expression indicating he's pissed-off and trying to hold his temper. As he pulled the phone away from his ear when the volume grew too loud she could hear Denning's agitated voice from where she sat though she couldn't make out most of the words. Those that she could make out were clearly not happy ones.

"Ms. Weston was here on the island vacationing and I had Detective Williams ask if she could help us out. Since she's familiar with the way we work and is an experienced profiler I felt she would be of great help on the kidnapping case as well as assist us in solving the art theft. It's actually working out very well. We have some promising leads to pursue." _Now try to give me shit about it._ , thought Five-0's leader.

There was more silence as Steve listened, now pressing the phone once more to his ear, before he replied, "Yes sir. He gave me my walking papers this morning." He wasn't lying, he had been cleared – to leave the hospital. Since Denning hadn't made the distinction between being okayed to leave the hospital and it being approved that he return to work, he wouldn't bring it up.

Finally, Lori heard Steve say, "Much better sir, Thank you for asking. Yes sir. Either myself or Detective Williams will be calling you with an update."

With a relieved exhale, Five-0's leader carefully set the phone back in its base then looked up at her with a tired grin. "I would say that went reasonably well – all things considered. Now I just have to ask you a question."

"What's that, Steve?"

"You want to chauffeur me somewhere?" he asked with a crooked smile.

…..

Martin yawned and stretched and thought happy thoughts. Today, this all comes to a very profitable end. All he has to do is meet Nozaki at the ship to get his money and then go get Bob out of jail.

He made his way to the marbled bathroom to take a shower and get ready for what will likely be a a busy day. There were still a few things to take care of but if everything went as planned it should go off seamlessly and he can get the hell off of Oahu.

After an unhurried ritual of meticulous grooming, he stood looking at himself in the full-length mirror in the dressing area. Straightening the collar of his Tommy Bahama, _Not_ _too_ _bad_ , he thought. He actually liked the colors in the silk shirt; they went well with his complexion. The busy pattern of hibiscus and palm leaves would also help sell the touristy vibe he was going for.

At least he looked like himself again. He'd been worried he'd have to live with that horrible bleached-out straw that was left when he stripped out the brown dye. Normally, he'd have had a professional take care of it but there's no sense taking the chance of leaving another trail. Now that his hair is once again it's normal reddish-blonde, thanks to Clairol, No.108, (No. 09 'Shimmering Sands' was just too light), he's much happier.

He'd had second thoughts about using the bail bondsman and had canceled the transaction. He has enough cash and authentic looking fake ID. After all, his papers were good enough to get by the TSA people at the airport.

He admired himself one more time as he ran his hands through his hair then went back to the bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed and settle his bill. _Electronic checkout is the best thing ever invented,_ he thought as he punched the buttons to that end. If only he could use the same process to get that idiot out of jail.

With a smile, he picked up his bag and giving a last glance around the room, went out the door.

….

With the huge roll-up freight doors open and the air conditioning off during set-up, the heat and humidity is fierce. Crates containing displays and product for the newest show – something to do with toy manufacturers – are conveyed by forklift to be dropped within the painted lines of numbered booth spaces. In two more days the place will be crawling with buyers and sellers in the newest city of commerce that suddenly appeared on the barren floor like desert wildflowers after a hundred-year storm.

They thread their way through the messy rows of crates and pieces of display booths as announcements blast out from speakers mounted on the ceiling forty feet over their heads. In a volume turned up to the level of a Metallica concert are reminders: 'Smoking is prohibited', 'Check your paperwork to make sure you're in your assigned space.', 'Have your permits ready for the fire marshal.' and, (this one added for the first time), 'Look around you before stepping into an aisleway'.

Luckily, by showing ID's, they'd been able to park behind the building rather than in one of the visitor lots in front of it. Steve doubted he'd have been able to make it all the way across the huge hall without stopping to rest. He knew Lori was already apprehensive enough and didn't want to let on that he isn't in good enough shape to be here.

As his energy flagged, even he himself was wondering if it had been such a good idea. Before they'd left HQ he'd taken a half dose of meds from one of the many bottles he'd pulled from his pockets and stashed in his desk drawer when Lori had gone to get her keys. The pain pill had taken the edge off of the ache but he could tell it was beginning to wear off. He should have taken a full dose but he didn't want the fuzzy-headed feeling that went with it. There is work to do and he'd need his full wits about him.

As they make their way toward the freight elevator at the back of the hall, Lori now sees how easy it could be for one to be flattened by a forklift. The hall resembled a busy ant colony; the machines like worker insects racing back and forth through mazes as they carried loads to be deposited in their proper places. If you weren't on your toes, they'd just run right over your ass.

Steve hadn't really told her what he was looking for; only that the buildings and the two cases, (art theft and abandoned display booth), are somehow connected and not just because the convention center and the museum share the same shipping and receiving facilities. None of them had realized it earlier.

Steve said she should tell Danny that someone needed to check through the shipping and receiving records for both facilities around the dates of the NMA Show. Right now, they didn't have time to do it themselves because, with the focus of a border collie, their fearless leader is onto the task at hand. She also suspects he may now be trying to avoid speaking with Danny.

They found an elevator, this one for people rather than the giant ones used for freight, and Steve pushed the button to bring it back up to them from the floor below.

"You sure you're okay to do this?" asked Lori; once again wondering if it's a good idea to be out in the field with a guy who'd just gotten out of the hospital.

"We're only looking around." he replied, "Don't worry. We'll be back at the palace before Danny and Chin get back from Makapu'u Point. You said they were interviewing the hiker that found the body and then had to go talk to the lighthouse keeper. If you add in a discussion with Max, the time it takes to get back up the cliff, and then a drive through midday traffic; they won't be back for another couple of hours."

Steve was now locked on target and though there was a brightness to his eyes, he remained tired looking. She would have suggested taking the stairs which would have been faster but if he'd felt up to it they'd have used them already. Still, he's tapping his foot impatiently as the lift finally arrives and they step into it for the trip to the basement.

The doors open onto an area nearly as cavernous as the one they'd left but, in contrast to the heat and light on the floor above, the storage area is much cooler and dimmer. Just as they step out of the elevator a bell sounds and someone calls out "Lunch!" Motors are turned off and activity ceases as the union members adhere to their strict schedule. Several pass them on the way to the elevator without giving them a second look. Lunch is lunch.

"So, what, exactly are we looking for?" she asks, a bit resentful that Steve hasn't yet told her his plan, if he even has one.

Without breaking his stride toward the north wall of the storage area he says, "There may be a way to get from here to the Museum, the entrance to a tunnel or something. We're looking for indication it exists."

"Oh" she replies. "So we're sort of like Lewis and Clark looking for the Northwest Passage?"

He turns to look at her quizzically; trying to decide if she's being sarcastic. Deciding she's not he says, "Sorry. I thought Danny would have told you about it."

"He left directly from home saying he was going to the windward side of the island and told me to hold the fort." she replied, "A little later he from the scene and spoke to Kono. She's the one who filled me in on what he and Chin are up to."

With eyes roving along the blank wall, looking for sign of an opening, he replied, "I looked at the building plans last night and realized it would be possible to create a tunnel from one building to the other. Since both the museum and this convention center share a shipping and receiving facility, what if the paintings were somehow smuggled out from the museum and shipped as though they were crates full of displays?"

Lori stopped in her tracks, mouth open. "You're kidding me!"

"Makes sense doesn't it? And I think that the crates that were supposed contain the abandoned booth were used to ship out the paintings. There's lots to look into here."

"Sonofabitch" he heard the profiler mutter and smiled as he gestured for her to continue their search.

They came to several coffin shaped crates stacked three high that blocked a seam in the wall. There appeared to be space behind the middle stack of crates with a single crate on each end blocking access to it.

Actually, the walls were seamed every twenty feet or so. Most of the convention center was constructed with the 'tilt-up' method. Concrete panels had been created flat on the ground then a crane was used to tilt them vertically in place so they could be bolted together.

"Here, help me push this away so that we can look behind it." ordered Steve as he grabbed the edge of one of the crates located on the end. Between the two of them they managed to inch the giant wooden box away from the others so that someone could get behind it. Steve squeezed his way into the opening to get close enough to inspect the seam.

Unfortunately, he found the seam was just a seam. With a huff of frustration he worked his way back out of the opening, cursing when his pocket caught on a rough edge of one of the crates. She heard a ripping sound and then "Goddammit!" as something hit the floor and rattled.

"You okay?" she asked worriedly

"Yeah, just caught my pocket on something."

"What fell?"

"Nothing."

"Ookay . . ." she said drawing it out.

He appeared next to her sounding as though he was out of breath. One pocket of his jacket had been torn loose and was hanging by a thread. "Let's keep looking." he said as he stalked off.

They walked on, inspecting the walls as they went along. Suddenly, Steve came to a halt as he peered at something ahead of them.

"Do you see something that doesn't look right?"

Following his gaze she saw a row of huge rectangular crates stacked neatly against the wall.

They strode quickly toward them. There were no outgoing shipping labels visible and no company name was stenciled on them. Every crate in the building had a vendor's name on it but these were blank.

They'd been stood on end, with others stacked atop them in the same way forming a giant wooden obelisk against the concrete wall. On the same wall but much farther away, began the rows of incoming crates that had been emptied and brought down here to be stacked horizontally. These were stacked vertically.

Steve rapped on one with his knuckles. It sounded as though nothing was in it. Lori did the same with another and it too sounded empty.

"Wait here." Ordered Steve as he jogged off toward an abandoned forklift. She saw him look into it and shake his head before he raced off to another not far from it. He turned to give her a thumbs up and then he entered the cab and she could hear it come to life with an electronic whine.

"You sure you know how to drive that thing?" she called out jokingly as he steered it across the floor.

"Move!" he barked as he came to a halt in front of the rampart and after a false start or two managed to extend the forks and hook them under a crate. He slowly backed the machine away as the load swayed and threatened to topple over. He pivoted the machine and moved a few feet away to set the crate down then went back for the next. Within five minutes, he'd moved all of them away from the wall then shut the lift off and jumped out to inspect the space he'd just cleared.

"Look there." he said. There were tracks on the dusty floor that ended at the wall as though a forklift had driven through it rather than stopped against it. "There's gotta be an opening."

Looking at the wall from a distance, it looked no different than any of the others but, on closer inspection. there appeared to be a very thin gasket rather than concrete grout around the edges of the cement panel.

"I don't see how they can open it." said Lori as she ran her fingers over its surface, "There doesn't appear to be any sort of mechanism to trigger it."

"The construction of this building was only begun three years ago so it would be something fairly sophisticated. Some sort of electronics. The seal looks really tight. I can't detect any air movement through it." answered Steve as he too inspected the wall.

"Hey!" called out a male voice from near the elevators, "What are you doin'?!" A guy in a convention center uniform came charging toward them. "You can't mess with stuff down here!"

A red-faced member of Local 459 walked up to them, walkie-talkie in hand. "Yeah, there's a couple yahoos here that started up one of the forks and moved some crates around." he said into it. "Get security down here!" he barked, coming up to them to stand red-faced and bull chested.

"Hold on." said Steve, putting a hand up in a halt gesture. "We're Five-0 and we're conducting an investigation here."

"Yeah, sure." replied wanna-be intimidating crew chief. "and I'm late for lunch with Batman. If you're cops, where's your badges then?"

Steve's hand went toward his belt where his shield usually resided but came up empty. _Shit!_ Danny hadn't returned it when he'd brought his clothes. He looked toward Lori.

"I, umm, I never got issued one. We didn't get that far." she murmured.

"Where's your Homeland Security ID?" asked Steve

"It's umm, on the dash of the rental. I left it there so it wouldn't get towed."

 _Crap!_ thought Steve as they waited for the convention center's security people to show up.

….

Danny's phone buzzed and he slipped it out of his pocket as he watched them load the victim's body into the ME's van . . . finally.

Chin was about to walk toward his bike when he heard Danny say, "He what!? They're where?!"

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 **Reviews would be appreciated.**

 **Whump is coming.**


	18. Bailing

Chapter 18

 **Tried to keep this one shorter than the last. Because I have little to no self-discipline, chapters were getting way too long. As a result, there's just a hint of whump but that should be remedied in the next chapter. I'm sorry if my mouth wrote a check my ass couldn't cash but I may be able to post the next update sooner than usual so don't lock and load just yet.**

 **Imaginary Beta is responsible for any errors because official beta, SPNGran, actually has a life.**

 **Disclaimer: I think No-So-Ninja-Cat has finally given up on her dream of a mouse ranch, (at least she hasn't mentioned it for a while), and I've come to the sad conclusion that my dreams of being paid to write this stuff may never come to be. I guess the cat and I have more in common than just being a bit too 'fluffy'.**

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Bailing

She'd just returned to HQ to find the office empty. Assuming Lori had been assigned elsewhere, Kono fetched a soda from the fridge in the break-room and settled into her office to start researching the finances of the woman she'd just re-interviewed. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and slipping it out she saw a familiar face on the screen. "Hey Danny." she answered.

"Kono, get to the Loulea Convention Center and go bail out Steve and Lori!" barked her temporary boss; anger very much evident.

"What? Why are Steve and Lori at the convention center?" she asked. _This_ _can't be_ _good._

"Excellent question. My best guess is that SuperSEAL and Batgirl have gone off on their own to investigate something he called me about before dawn this morning. I didn't even know he'd been turned loose from Queens. He'd better not have gone AMA 'cause, invalid or not, I'm gonna kick his friggin' ass!"

"Who's holding them and for what?" asked Kono, ignoring her temporary boss's agitation, as she grabbed her keys and took long-legged strides toward the door while holding the phone to her ear.

"They're in the security office. Apparently Rambo commandeered a forklift, moved some shit around, and the union rep caught him. No doubt Lori was aiding and abetting. I'm gonna have words with her too."

"Don't be too hard on her Danny, you know how persuasive Steve can be." reminded the Hawaiian woman, relieved the situation didn't sound all that serious.

"Am I surprised that Agent Weston finally drank the Kool-Aid? No!" said Danny answering his own question, "It's a wonder he didn't talk her into taking along an RPG." _A woman toting a grenade launcher is probably one of the asshole's_ _favorite_ _fantasies,_ thought Danny before he tried _not_ to think about it.

Kono smirked as she turned the key and started the engine. She knew Lori had a thing for Steve and, as with most females, he only had to look at them from under those lashes and deploy that smile and they're willing to do whatever he wants. She once watched him work his charm on the girlfriend of a suspect. After Steve was through with her, the woman was willing to rat-out her own grandmother, let alone her boo.

As she'd once told Chin, "It's a good thing Steve uses his powers only for good, cuz."

…..

When she arrived at Loulea Convention Center, it took only the flash of her badge and she was directed toward the security office. There she discovered that the guard in charge is someone she recognized from her class at the academy. HPD Officer Willy Loo is apparently making a few extra bucks in his off hours.

"Sorry Kono," he said as they walked down a long hallway to the holding room, "I'd have turned them loose but the union guys here are such bastards they threatened to call the woman that runs the place and get me fired. They're real tigers for following Homeland Security guidelines these days."

Kono nodded in understanding then asked, "Steve didn't give you a hard time and try to leave?" She's puzzled that her inveterate leader is even still here.

"Nah, he looked kinda sick. A lot of people have been affected by this heat and humidity during set-up. We can't use the AC in the building because the roll-up doors have to stay open to get stuff in and out. Ambulance has been here a couple times to haul off some poor bast . . . guy who's passed-out. Anyway, I gave him a cold drink and something to eat."

Arriving at the holding room she found that, rather than being cuffed, Steve and Lori are sitting drinking soda and chilling; a package of cookies and a bag of chips on the table in front of them. They both looked up at her; Steve with an annoyed expression and Lori with that look that dogs get when they've been caught chewing up a couch cushion.

"It's okay, Willy. I got it from here." smiled Kono as she signed the paper he handed her certifying she now had custody of the detainees. Means and immunity, even though it was a little less encompassing these days, still comes in handy.

Both 'prisoners' were subdued on the walk from the office to the parking area. Other than a, "Thanks Willy." as they left the office, Steve had nothing to say. Agent Weston just looked embarrassed.

With Lori driving her rental, and Steve a passenger in Kono's Cruz, the three drove back toward the palace. Kono broached the subject that Danny would surely be taking up, (loudly), when the former detainees arrived at HQ.

Though it really wasn't a question, the Hawaiian woman asked, "Boss, shouldn't you be resting at home instead hanging out at the convention center?"

"I knew you guys are really busy and I thought I could make myself useful." replied the SEAL as though it was an everyday occurrence.

"Danny's not going to be happy about this." she said in what is surely vast understatement.

"Danny's gonna have to get over it." shrugged Steve.

"Boss, I know you've gotta be um, restless by now but didn't the doctors tell you to rest and not to go back to work?"

"The word 'work' doesn't appear anywhere on my doctor's instructions." said Steve with more confidence than he actually felt. He knew that Fanning assumed he wouldn't go anywhere near work. Now, he probably has to face his doctor's wrath as well as Danny's. His life is going to suck even more than it already does.

Realizing Steve wasn't going to acknowledge what is obvious, Kono changed the subject. "So, did the docs find out what caused you to pass out?" ( _and have_ _bruises and_ _nosebleeds and look like crap in general_ ,) she didn't add.

"Yeah um, I'll tell you guys all about that tonight." he said, "You're coming for dinner, right?"

"Sure", she smiled, "It's free food!" The knot of worry that she'd had for several weeks tightened in her gut. _Why wouldn't Steve just tell her what's wrong right now_ _instead of waiting for tonight_ _?_

It isn't that long a drive back to the palace but before they'd gotten even halfway there, Steve asked, "I know this is probably going to sound cowardly, but could you drop me off at home rather than take me back to the palace? You're probably right about Danny and I don't really have the energy to deal with him right now. I'll face the firing squad after I have time to recharge a bit."

"Yeah, sure, Boss. No problem." she said, casting her eyes to the man in the passenger seat who was beginning to look a little green. "You okay?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, just maybe a little carsick." he answered almost truthfully. He was supposed to eat something before taking that pill and apparently Oreos and potato chips after the fact weren't the solution. His stomach was beginning to spasm with the urge to rid itself of the junk food.

As her passenger suddenly grimaced and paled even further, Kono asked in alarm, "You need me to pull over?"

"Good idea." he panted as she immediately flipped on the emergency flashers and pulled to the side of the road where Steve hurriedly unbuckled his seatbelt and lurched out of the vehicle.

Kono debated whether to give him privacy or be there next to him in case he passed out or something. It's obvious to her that her fiercely independent leader is struggling to remain so despite whatever illness is plaguing him.

She sat and waited for him to come back to the car.

…..

As she drove away after dropping Steve off at home, Kono called Danny to tell him 'mission accomplished'.

"Is he okay?" asked Five-0's temporary boss currently steering along the winding road back to the city limits.

"Sort of. We had to pull over on the way because he was going to throw-up." she answered, "He seemed better after that. He said he was just carsick."

"Uh, huh." answered Danny, not believing Steve's explanation for tossing his cookies. "Lou is on his way to fetch Robert Hubbard now that our little friend is tired of the ambiance at the county jail. He wants to work a deal and, since the blue room seemed to make quite an impression on him last time, it's the best place to negotiate. Chin should be arriving there any minute. I'm gonna swing by Steve's place on my way back. I shouldn't be long."

 _Yeah,_ thought Kono, _It doesn't take_ _that_ _long to shoot somebody._

"Just don't kill him, Danny; he can't come back to work if he's dead." she advised.

"No promises." answered the bristly detective before ending the call. He'd be at McGarrett's in a few minutes and wondered what bullshit excuse Steve would come up with.

After trying twice without success to get Steve to answer his calls he gave up. "You can run but you can't hide, Steven", he growled under his breath as he made the turn onto Pi'i'koi Street.

…

Just a few more hours and he'd be kicking back in first class with a glass of champagne in his hand and another 100K in his bank account. All he has to do now is bail that moron out of jail and then be off to a final meeting with Nozaki. They'd arranged to rendezvous at the ship so he could collect the balance of his payment. The man is scary but he'd always been honest when it came to money.

After having been put on hold several times, he'd at last gotten through to the correct county office for bail information. "Finally!" he muttered when the clerk answered the phone.

"Hello, my name is John Hubbard and I am seeking to learn the bail amount for one Robert Hubbard, my brother, who's being held in your county jail. Our mother called me to go get him out so I need to know how much to bring with me."

"Do you know his case number?" asked the efficient sounding woman on the other end of the call.

"No, of course not." answered Martin, trying his best to keep his voice even.

"I'm putting you on hold." said the clerk.

"No, wait!" he exclaimed before an instrumental rendition of 'Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head' poured into his ear. _If the next song they play is 'It's a Small World After All' I'm just go_ _ing to_ _hang up and let_ _than moron_ _rot_ _in jail_ _!_

After what seemed an hour he heard, "Sir? Robert Hubbard has been transferred to another facility. He's no longer in Honolulu County Jail."

"What do you mean he's no longer there? Where is he?"

"He was signed-out this morning by another branch of law enforcement."

"Which one?" he asked, hoping she'd at least give him that information.

"The Governor's Special Task Force took him into custody."

 _Uh, Oh._

…..

After pounding on the door to no avail, Danny was about to use the key he'd been given when a temporary lack of housing had washed him up at the doorstep of Casa McGarrett. Steve had never asked for it back and it had remained on his key ring.

Just as he reached for the handle, the door was jerked open and a disheveled looking Steve, stood before him squinting blearily.

"What?!" he demanded of the man standing on his porch.

Without even waiting to be invited in, Danny began his barrage. "You couldn't just wait a few minutes so that someone could go check out the convention center for you? You know, someone who isn't in danger of being blown over by the next strong breeze or maybe bleed to death from a friggin' paper cut?!"

"Look D, the doctor released me and I was just . . ."

"Just what? Trying to make sure you were getting your money's worth from your last transfusion? Trying to worry your friends into early graves?"

Steve rolled his eyes and resignedly stood aside as Danny brushed past him in full-on rant mode. _Like I really need this right now_ , he thought sourly. He ached all over and it was all he could do stand upright. He'd just fallen to sleep when the doorbell woke him and the pounding made sure he wasn't returning to slumber.

"And you managed to drag Weston into it?!" exclaimed the angry detective punctuating his words with hand gestures, "I thought she had more brains than that but apparently she agreed to be your sidekick in your quest to prove that you are indispensable and that your team can't possibly function without you!"

"Lori had nothing to do with it!" said Steve, his head now beginning to pound with the volume of his partner's harangue. "I'd have gone anyway."

"Of that I have no doubt, but it doesn't make her any less responsible for going along with an idiotic plan that would likely end with your sorry ass back in the hospital way sooner than planned!."

"I repeat, Lori was only doing me a favor. While I was at HQ the governor called and after we talked to him . . . "

"You and Lori talked to the governor?! You're not even supposed to be there! _She's_ not supposed to be there!" At this point, Danny's voice rose in pitch to almost dog-whistle range.

Steve winced at the assault on his eardrums but calmly replied, "I promised that we'd get this case tied-up really soon. He's expecting me to update him by tonight."

"Does he know that you're supposed to be home, in bed, resting, instead of operating heavy machinery as I'm certain it very clearly states NOT to do on at least one, if not several, of the pill bottles you were given when you left the hospital?" asked Danny crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for a reply.

"I didn't tell him that, no. I figured that you'd already filled him in on my ah, situation and he didn't give a shit. He just wanted results."

Steve looked beyond exhausted and his friend could see that he's running on fumes. Maybe he'd have to give him a pass—for now. The detective took a calming breath before replying, "I only told him that you'd been injured and they were keeping you in the hospital for a few days. Anything else I figured was for you to tell him."

"Oh." said Steve as he eased himself down onto the sofa.

"So, did you tell Lori what's going on with you?" asked Danny.

"No, I didn't have time." answered Steve scrubbing his hands over his face, almost forgetting not to put any pressure on his nose lest it start bleeding again. "Besides, I, um, I wanted to tell everyone tonight. Figured you guys could all freak-out together."

Began Danny, "I know you think we're being over protective; me in particular, but it's for . . . "

"Look," Steve suddenly exploded, "I already had this part of the discussion with Weston! If you dare say, 'it's for your own good', I swear I'm gonna ram my fist down your throat! I'm a grown man, dammit! I've been on my own for a lotta years. I know how to take care of myself and I DON'T NEED YOU OR ANYONE ELSE TREATING ME LIKE A KID!"

Steve is upset enough that his pale complexion has a tinge of pink to it. The man has a temper; _everyone_ knows that but he didn't usually raise his voice when angry. Rather, it got even quieter . . . and scarier.

"Steven," said Danny in a much more subdued tone, "I know you've got to be really frustrated right now and maybe a little scared as well."

Steve didn't reply. He only stared blankly into the distance; clenched jaw muscles clearly visible on his too lean face.

Danny continued, "The guys have been asking every day if the doctors have learned what caused you to pass-out at the restaurant, and why you've lost so much weight, and what's with the bruising and the nosebleeds. We are concerned about you. I'm sorry if we've given you the impression that we don't think you're capable of taking care of yourself. That's not our intention."

Steve started to reply but Danny held up his hand asking for silence.

"I know you were raised to just tough things out. Then the Navy added to that fucked-up mindset by telling you that you are expected to be all but invincible. You always somehow power through what would cause most of us mere mortals to curl up in the fetal position. You are the best of the best but it's time to stand down for awhile, babe. You have to let us take up any slack . . . until you're well enough to get back to work and kick ass again."

Steve, eyes now fastened on his friend, regarded him silently for a moment before speaking. "You have no idea how hard this is; I mean to accept these limitations. Other than for the times I've actually been hospitalized after being injured, I've never had to just stay put. I need to move, Danny. It's something that isn't even a choice for me. It has so much to do with . . . with my peace of mind. If I'm not active it allows all these thoughts to just inundate me; things I don't want to think about even on good days."

"Like what thoughts?" asked Danny; equally concerned and curious.

After another pause, Steve answered, "Like you told me, my head is a scary place. There are things no one should ever have to think about. Things you don't want to know. Stuff I've seen . . . stuff I've done. There are a lot of things I'd rather not think about."

"Is one of them Catherine?" Danny asks cautiously.

Steve looked away and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes he said, "Yes, Catherine too."

There was nothing to say. Danny had no answers for his friend. All he could do is sit in the quiet, and be there with him.

…..

Danny had just left for HQ. Steve closed and locked the door then leaned tiredly against it. He was drained. Discussions with his garrulous partner could sometimes do that even without them being about anything so heavy duty.

His headache was getting worse. He plucked the pill bottle from the bowl by the door where he usually threw his keys when he returned home. Maybe, now that he'd eaten something, he could take a pain pill without puking it up. Danny had pushed him to eat something so they'd made sandwiches and had an early lunch before he'd left.

His other pills were still at the office. He'd have to call someone to get them out of his desk drawer to bring them tonight. He just couldn't face anyone else right now.

Returning to the kitchen, he got a bottle of water out of the fridge and popped a pill into his mouth then downed half the bottle to chase it. He'd begun to feel kind of warm and the icy water left a soothing trail on its way down.

Wandering back to the living room, he stood at the foot of the stairs while absently rubbing at his side where he'd scratched it earlier. He'd have to sew that pocket back onto his jacket. At least he'd found the pill vial before it had rolled away under a crate.

Though his bed is inviting, climbing stairs to get to it just seemed too arduous a task.

"Fuck it." he muttered then went to the sofa to lie down for a nap. He'd seriously have to get some rest before confronting his team tonight.

Maybe he wouldn't dream. Though it was nice to see her in them, it nearly broke his heart every time he'd wake to realize she's gone again. He sat down on the worn leather then swung his legs onto the cushions and lay his head back with a tired sigh. He was asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Am really looking forward to seeing how they're going to end the season. Quite a bit of the next chapter has been written so the story may be updated before the finale but can't promise.**

 **Apologies for lack of whump in this chapter but it's coming. Your comments would be much appreciated.**


	19. Meetings

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 19

 **Bet you thought I was being overly optimistic about cranking this one out before the season finale. Managed to surprise even me. It's a long one with lots of case stuff as well as a bit of the promised whump.**

 **SPNGran took a stab at it before it was completed so any remaining errors are mine which I will no doubt be sneaking back to correct.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't get paid for this and, as the saying goes, 'Money can't buy love'. It can however buy a ticket to Hawaii where a one-sided version of it would probably just get me arrested.**

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Meetings

Lou returned to the office with Bob in handcuffs. The supposed stalker/kidnapper had let it be known that, if he could work a deal, he'd talk.

Sitting in the blue room, Bob looked around once again at the unsettling barren space. _Jeeze,_ he thought, _This is_ _fucking_ _depressing._ _You'd think they could at least hang a poster on the wall or something._

"So, you say you have information on the art theft?" calmly asked the very tall black man who stood looking down at him. Lou Grover almost never had to _sound_ intimidating, just his presence accomplished that.

"We have a deal right? Information in exchange for getting the kidnapping charges dropped?" Bob asked to reconfirm what already had already been negotiated.

"Yeah, yeah. That won't be what you're going to prison for." answered Grover with a dismissive wave.

"So, tell us what you know." said Chin who stood hands on hips; intently focused on the man in the chair.

"Okay."said Bob taking a deep breath in preparation to beginning his tale, "All the commotion didn't have nuthin' to do with kidnapping. We were only supposed to distract everyone so that Marty could grab the paintings without worrying about cops showing up."

"Who is Marty? What's his full name?" asked Lou

"I dunno." answered Bob then, taking in the doubtful expressions of his interrogators, he added "Honest!"

Seeing that the two cops still wore identical expressions of disbelief, the prisoner continued a bit more tensely, "I've worked for him a time or two but he never told me what it is. He said that it's, um, 'unusual' and that it's only ever brought him grief so he just prefers to be called Marty. I didn't push it. He pays me in cash so there's no reason to know."

"Okay, so what did Marty have you do?" asked Chin

"He had me and another guy lurk around in different places and scare some kids. We never even talked to them or nuthin'. We were just supposed to look like maybe we were stalking them. We, uh, we were all dressed alike and drove white vans so you guys'd think it was one perv that was all over the island . . . anyway, Marty was the only one who actually ever even got out of his van. He said he just wanted to scare those little girls; 'those little bitches' he called them. He got a kick out of it. I thought it was kinda creepy."

"So what happened with the boy?" asked Grover.

"Marty bribed the kid's relatives to stash him for a while. He said the kid likes to hang-out with his cousins so just tell him that his parents wanted me to take him to his aunt and uncle's place for a luau. He's not a very bright kid. He just got into the car and I drove us to the ferry and delivered him and a bag of money to Molokai. He seemed perfectly happy with it. Someone's gotta teach that kid not to be so trusting."

Lou just blinked at their prisoner. The guy actually seemed sincere.

"Anyway, me, Randy my ex-cellmate, and Marty got everyone all hot and bothered about the make believe kidnapping and the perv stalking the kids. It distracted you guys and made it easy to get the paintings out of the museum and shipped to a boat waiting at the harbor. "Heh," chuckled Bob, "Marty laughed at the idiots at the museum for not noticing the forgeries had like random dogs and Kardashians in 'em. Pretty funny."

"Yeah, hilarious. Do you know the name of the buyer or the boat or where it's going?" asked Chin.

"Not a clue. Just that Marty was kinda shittin' bricks that the heist go off without a hitch. I think he's scared of the guy he's getting the paintings for."

….

While he searched for provisions for tonight's dinner his mind wandered to Lori Weston his erstwhile partner in crime. If he's interpreting her actions correctly, she's been flirting with him. How could she even think him attractive right now?

After waking from his nap he took a long, non-Navy shower to help ease the ache in his bones. While shaving, (with an electric razor to avoid nicking himself), he examined his face in the mirror. Even he was startled at how ill he looked. It added to the dread of telling his ohana of the cause for his less than healthy appearance. They're not stupid and, even if he spun it in a positive direction, he knew they wouldn't be convinced. It would distress them _and_ he'd have to fight being smothered in their concern.

The team would be here in another forty-five minutes. He opened the door of the fridge and checked to see if he had enough beer. There were two six-packs of Longboards. If he wasn't limited to non-alcoholic beverages it might not be enough but it should do for tonight. Taking further inventory he realized his guests would have to settle for cheese burgers, (at least Danny would be happy). Though he isn't restricted from driving, he just didn't have the energy to go grocery shopping and because of his long nap, he was out of time anyway.

Thank goodness Danny had brought a giant bag of frozen burger patties last time they'd had a cookout. The Jersey detective still held that barbeques are meant for meat not fish. There were at least a dozen of the little ground beef frisbees left in the freezer. He took them out and set them on the counter to thaw. Luckily, the lettuce in the veggie drawer was still good if you pulled off the wilted outer leaves and there were still a couple of tomatoes that hadn't bitten the big one. There was even cheese that hadn't gone moldy. Maybe dinner wouldn't be all that sparse.

Taking care not to cut himself as he carefully sliced a tomato, he could feel the dread that sat in his stomach like a stone grow heavier by the minute. Lost in his task and his thoughts, he actually jumped when he heard Danny yell out, "Steven! The supply train has pulled in!"

His friend strode into the kitchen carrying several large paper bags and set them on the table and the kitchen island. "Thought I'd give you a break in case you weren't up to cooking tonight. You weren't, were you?"

"Thanks Danny." he smiled; relieved he wouldn't have to expend energy he didn't have. "I should've thought out the dinner invitation a bit more carefully. We were pretty much destined to eat what I have in the freezer."

"You weren't going to make us eat edamame were you?" asked Danny, looking horrified at the very thought.

"No, of course not." said Steve, annoyed at his friend's attitude toward anything that may be considered healthy. "I still have some burger patties and stuff and there's that institution sized can of chilli beans left from Grace's last birthday party. I was actually going to call you to see if you could pick up some hamburger buns on your way here."

"The frozen burgers I can see and, even though my daughter is going to be another year older next week, the beans are probably still okay but what 'stuff' could there be in your fridge that hasn't become a science experiment? You haven't been home for a week so anything that isn't frozen or canned would probably poison us."

"If I'm gonna poison you, Danny, it won't be by accident." huffed Steve.

"So that's the attitude I get for bringing dinner from your favorite Chinese take-out joint? I just saved you from playing Martha you ungrateful schmuck."

"Martha?" repeated Steve as he frowned and cocked his head at his friend.

"Yeah, you know as in Martha Stewart. I think it's the ensemble that does it." said Danny gesturing toward his friend's apparel.

Steve looked down at the colorful apron he'd donned. It was one that he'd found in the broom closet a few days after he'd moved in. One of the many things belonging to Doris his dad had never parted with. He didn't remember her wearing it, she wasn't much of a cook.

"Funny." he replied as he turned to reach into the cupboard for plates before his partner stopped him.

"Paper, babe. For once I think it's okay to take a break unless you have your heart set on doing dishes." Danny produced a stack of disposable plates from a grocery bag he'd set on the kitchen island. "You wanna eat on the lanai?" he asked as he rummaged for the plastic utensils he'd thrown into the bag at the last moment. Now that he'd finally splurged and bought real flatware he's free to sacrifice his collection of plastic. A few of the forks and spoons are bright purple. They too are leftovers from Gracie's birthday party. Steve's just lucky that he didn't bring the matching Disney Princess paper plates.

"How about we eat indoors tonight? It's kinda cold out there." said Steve. He's attired in jeans and a pullover sweatshirt with another shirt beneath it instead of the wife beater and board shorts he usually wears at home.

Danny looked up in surprise, (it's still really warm out). "Yeah, sure.", agreed the Jersey native who knew from cold weather. "It can get kinda chilly when that breeze comes up in the evenings."

After setting the table, Steve put the containers of take-out into the oven to keep warm until the rest of the team arrived. Turning back toward his partner he asked, "You want a beer?"

"Yeah, that sounds good, but uh . . ."

"Don't worry." smiled Steve. "Just because I can't have one doesn't mean you can't."

"If you insist." replied Danny, as Steve took a Longboard out of the fridge and handed it to him. "You did take your meds, right?" he asked before tilting the bottle against his lips.

"Well, yeah, some, but I didn't have time to deal with them before Lori and I left to check out the convention center."

"Where are they? What did you do with them?" frowned his partner.

"They're in my desk drawer. I asked Kono to bring them with her."

"You know it's important to take them on time." scolded Danny in what had to be imitation of his own mother. Steve's reply was to stop setting out the paper napkins and glare at him.

"By the way," said Danny, ignoring the look, "I called Denning and explained that you're in the hurt locker for now and won't be doing much following up on our cases."

Steve's first reaction was anger that his partner had taken it upon himself to contact Denning without speaking with him first but, upon second thought, it was probably a good thing that he had. Keeping his promise to get back to work would be impossible he'd realized but he was loathe to go back on his word.

Trying not to sound annoyed, he asked, "So, how did that go over?"

"Let's just say that we discussed it a bit more thoroughly than I'd planned." hemmed the detective.

"So, do we still have our jobs?" asked Steve, knowing that his partner's fearless candor wasn't always welcomed by their esteemed employer.

"We came to an understanding." answered Danny.

"Which was?" pressed Steve

"Until your doctors give the okay, he won't be contacting you for any reason whatsoever other than to ask about your well-being."

"Wow." said Steve, "Wish I'd heard that conversation."

"So, um . . . so how do we want to do this?" asked Danny quickly changing subjects.

Steve at first looked puzzled then quickly catching on to the question said, "I assume you're asking how am I going to approach the subject of telling everyone that I'm sick and may actually croak?"

"You can't tell them that, Steven."

"Why not. It's true isn't it?" said Steve as he turned and walked back to the living room, Danny following. The tall man eased himself onto the sofa and tilted his head back against the leather cushion and closed his eyes.

"You can't tell them that, because you're not going to, as you so delicately put it, 'croak'. You're gonna fight this thing and you're gonna win."

"Danny, the drug's either going to work or it won't." said Steve bluntly. "It won't help to pretend the possibility of failure doesn't exist. I don't want my last days to be spent in denial."

His partner looked at him bleakly. "You promised me you wouldn't give up."

"I'm not going to give up . . ." declared Steve before further discussion was curtailed by the ringing of the doorbell.

Without getting up from the sofa, Steve yelled out, "Come in, it's open!"

…..

Dinner was congenial. The attempt to avoid discussing work didn't last long. It was Lou who cracked first.

"Okay, I'm tired of this Don't-Ask-Don't-Tell shit." he said as he speared the last piece of kung pao shrimp from a container in the middle of the table. "What the hell were you two doing at the convention center?"

Lori, after the embarrassment of having to be vouched for by Kono seemed to have recovered. She answered, "Steve and I found what looked like a portal of some sort that could connect to a tunnel leading to the museum."

Lou who'd come here directly from dropping Bob back at the county lockup after the interrogation hadn't had time to catch up with the rest of the team. His eyebrows rose. "So you and Indiana Jones here," he said gesturing toward Steve, "think there's a secret passage of some sort?"

The Five-0 leader answered, "I think the paintings may have been transported via a tunnel from the museum to the convention center where they were shipped out. Most likely in the crates from that abandoned display booth."

"First thing in the morning, we're going to look for a corresponding door in the basement of the museum." said Danny, "And by 'we', I mean anyone who isn't Rambo here."

The flood gates were open now and the rest of the meal pretty much functioned as a debriefing session with fortune cookies.

The discussion then went to Malcolm Atwell. Max had confirmed the body found at Makapu'u Point is that of the museum director. Five-0's research had unveiled the not so surprising information that the man had a very healthy balance in his bank account. There'd been a deposit of fifty-thousand dollars three years ago and another ten-thousand last week.

On further investigation of museum and convention center personnel, they'd discovered that ten-thousand dollars had been deposited into the account of one John Boden, the teamster who'd been killed by the forklift. Going on the instincts of Kono and Lori they'd also looked into the finances of the trade show coordinator, Natalie Oster, and found there'd been a deposit into her account in the amount of twenty-five thousand at around the same time. As a precaution, Danny had requested that HPD dispatch a team in plain clothes to keep a watch on the woman.

"Okay, now your turn." said Steve to Lou, "What did you find out from Hubbard?"

"When he started singin' the guy coulda given Caruso a run for his money." The big man smiled at the others around the table. "He said the stalker we were trying to catch was actually three men, all dressed alike and driving identical vehicles. It was to make us think it was just one really busy pedophile so that the public would freak and pressure the powers that be to concentrate all resources on catching him."

"Worked." said Steve with a disgusted sigh. "And the kidnapping?"

This time Chin answered, "That was staged as well. The kid's aunt and uncle were paid to stash him for a couple of weeks. He was never really in danger."

"He say who's behind all this?" asked Steve before taking a sip of his hot tea.

"All Hubbard could tell us is that it's a guy named Marty." answered Chin, "He didn't know his last name but this Marty had once let it slip that it had been a source of ridicule. He was also worried about pulling off the art theft successfully because the guy he's stealing the paintings for has him, in Hubbard's words, 'shitting bricks'."

Danny summarized as he ticked off the points on his fingers, "So, we're looking for a high-end art thief named Marty or Martin, with a funny last name, who is well-heeled, and is capable of pulling off a really elaborate heist to steal paintings to sell to someone really scary."

"Sounds about right." agreed Lou with Chin nodding in confirmation beside him.

"So, no problem, right?" snorted Steve.

…

The table was cleared and they adjourned to the living room; Kono, Lori and Lou on the sofa with Chin perched on its arm and Danny sitting in the recliner.

Steve stood before them looking pensive for a moment, eyes focused on the floor. Then he raised them to focus on his friends. "You guys know that I needed to talk to you all about something." he began as those on the sofa nodded in agreement, with Kono answering softly, "Yeah, boss." Her eyes cut to Danny who'd said nothing but ran a hand through his hair nervously. Not a good sign.

"Well, I um . . . the doctors finally figured out why I've been under the weather lately."

Expressions worried and expectant, the team was focused on its leader save Danny who'd yet to look up.

"It seems I managed to acquire something called aplastic anemia." said Steve.

"Crap!" muttered Lou who obviously knew what it was.

"They uh think it may be the result of the drugs I was given when Wo Fat held me in that room at the laundry." The word 'torture' wasn't mentioned though everyone filled in the blank.

Faces hardened as Lou, Chin and Kono reacted to the memory but the three remained silent.

"I'm not going to sugar coat this." Steve continued, "I think too much of you guys to try to lie about it. This kind of anemia is serious, it's something that's going to keep me out of work, for awhile at least, and I'm probably going to be pretty sick before it's over."

"So that's what's behind the bruising and the nosebleeds?" asked Kono.

"Yeah, and here you guys thought I was just clumsy." joked Steve though no one laughed.

"So, when you say serious, how serious?" asked Chin, ever the truth seeker no matter how upsetting it could be.

"I may not be able to make it through this." answered Steve unflinchingly.

Danny sat elbows on knees and head down as the others looked at their leader as though someone had hit them between the eyes with a shovel. Though there'd been strong suspicions that Steve was seriously ill, they were stunned.

"Look, I know you guys are going to worry no matter what but I'm going to do my best to beat this. Aplastic anemia isn't always fatal." (Danny actually flinched at the word 'fatal'). There's a new drug they've come up with that could possibly cure it or at least put me in remission."

"Have you started treatment yet?" asked Lori

"No, I'm supposed to go in for the first session day after tomorrow."

"How long is it going to take to um . . . until you're cured?" asked Kono, her dark eyes shiny and her voice tight.

"It will take about a month or so after I begin taking it to know if the drug's going to work or not."

"Is that the only treatment available?" asked Chin.

"As far as I'm concerned, yeah, it's my best shot." As his friends were silent while digesting what he'd told them, Steve asked, "Any other questions?"

"Yeah, just how sick are you going to get before you get better, Steve?" asked Lori

"Let's just say I probably won't be running a 10K or gaining any weight for a while. It's for sure not going to be a picnic but I've got some really good doctors who know what they're doing."

"Is it like leukemia treatment?" asked Lou, "Are you going to need a bone marrow transplant? If so, man, put me on the list to be tested."

"Me too." said Kono, Chin and Lori nearly as one.

This time Steve had to pause, looking downward and composing himself before going on. He cleared his throat and again raised his eyes to his ohana, "Thanks guys. I . . . I really appreciate that you're all willing to do that for me but a bone marrow transplant isn't going to be part of the treatment."

"We're family, babe." spoke Danny for the first time. "We'll do whatever you need us to do."

"I know." said Steve softly with a small smile and eyes threatening to spill over.

Clearing his throat he said, "To answer Lou's question, it's different than the treatment for leukemia. The new drug is supposed to kick-start my bone marrow into producing red and white cells along with platelets. In the meantime, my doctor said I'm supposed to behave myself."

"Like that's gonna happen." muttered Danny.

"Look, I don't want you guys to worry and to treat me like I'm made of glass. I'm going to do my damnedest to get over this and it's up to you all to hold down the fort until I get back. You guys need to look out for yourselves and each other."

That got nods of acknowledgment along with, 'sure boss', 'will do', 'of course'.

"I'm not going anywhere for a while so, if you need me for anything, just give me a call. I'm sure I'll be bored out of my skull and will need a distraction. Daytime TV is not all it's cracked up to be." That one actually got a couple of weak smiles.

"Hey, the good thing is that this this drug isn't one that causes your hair to fall out. I won't be any competition for Grover." he grinned.

"As if." snorted Lou.

"So, who wants a shot?" asked Steve gesturing to the bottle of Jameson on the coffee table.

…..

The meeting went nowhere near as planned. When he'd arrived at the dock, Nozaki's men were waiting but the oyabun was nowhere in sight. He had a really bad feeling as they escorted him toward the freighter.

Arriving on its deck, he looked around the barren space then asked one of the smartly dressed henchmen, "So where's your boss?"

"He decided he wasn't needed to complete this transaction." said the man in slightly accented English before he turned toward his compatriot and barked an order.

Seeing the second man reach under his jacket, Martin reacted and made a break for it. As shots rang out behind him he dove over the railing into the dark waters of Honolulu Harbor.

….

Lou and Lori had volunteered to clean-up though it was mostly just gathering take-out containers and paper plates and wiping off the table. Still, Steve was grateful. As the evening wore on, he was tiring badly. His headache was back and he was now overly warm rather than chilled. He'd even taken off the sweatshirt and rolled up the sleeves on the chambray shirt he'd worn underneath.

After another hour his team, one by one, hugged him goodbye; some murmuring words of encouragement in English, some whispering them in Hawaiian.

Lori noted that as she'd pressed her cheek against his when she'd hugged him, Steve felt too warm. She didn't know if she should say anything but maybe she'd mention it to Danny or Kono.

"Keep me updated." called out Five-0's sidelined leader as his team left for their own homes.

"Remember your meds." admonished Danny, patting his partner on the shoulder on the way out.

"Yes, mother." replied Steve as he shut the door behind his friend and locked it, briefly leaning his forehead against the wood before pushing away.

He'd pretty much ignored any discomfort during all the activity of the evening and the worry of having to tell his friends of his illness. But now, he noticed that his skin felt as though he was sunburned; his reaction to a fever. The aching in his head and body was more pronounced as well.

Retrieving the bag of pills from the kitchen, he trudged up the stairs to his bedroom. _I really need to lie down._

Entering the bathroom he set the meds on the counter and, one by one, took the vials out of the bag and read the labels. With a snort of disgust, he shook out appropriate amounts from appropriate bottles and downed the pills with a tumbler of water.

Pulling off his clothing to toss into the hamper he caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink and paused. He could count every rib. Sighing, he turned sideways to examine the place he'd been rubbing at off and on through most of the evening. It was an ugly red scratch, deeper and angrier than he'd first thought. It hadn't hurt all that much when he'd caught his jacket on the nail sticking out of the crate. He was mostly annoyed that he'd have to sew the pocket back on. Swearing under his breath, he pulled open the medicine cabinet and got out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some gauze, and a tube of Neosporin. He hissed at the sting as he sluiced the abrasion with the peroxide then dabbed at it with the gauze before slathering on a layer of the antibiotic ointment. He wouldn't bother to bandage it. Normally, a scratch this minor could be ignored but, these days, he needed to be more cautious. He finished getting ready for bed, dismayed that no matter how gently he brushed his teeth, it caused his gums to bleed

Finally able to lay down he reveled in the softness of his bed and smiled in the darkness as he recalled his ohana's words of support. Why ever did he worry so much about their reactions? They're his family.

His last thought as he drifted off was that if he didn't feel better in the morning, he'd give Fanning a call.

….

He blinked at the rosy light flowing into the room. Soaked in sweat; the sheet he's tangled in is clinging to his skin. As he struggled out of the bedclothes, the movement made his head swim but he managed to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

Groaning, he rose to stagger toward the bathroom. When his feet hit the tile of its floor it felt as though he's treading on a glacier. Lurching forward, he turned on the tap and cupped his hands around the spout to drink directly from it. It's as though he hasn't had any water for days. His reflection in the mirror over the sink startled him. The guy looking back from its surface has sodden hair plastered to his skull and skin nearly dead white with flushed patches of color on each cheek. Something is definitely wrong.

He pushed off from the edge of the sink to wobble back toward the bedstand where the phone sits but made it only halfway before his legs gave out.

Having stumbled to his knees he paused there to gather strength in muscles that feel oxygen deprived. His short journey had taken on the torture of a climb into the rarefied air of Everest

He struggled to rise but, as though someone had flipped a light switch, he's engulfed in sudden darkness and doesn't even feel it when his face collides with the floor.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Am anxiously awaiting the season finale. Have already notified all friends and relatives that I will not be available between the hours of nine and eleven pm on Friday. Anyone who dares disturb me, cats included, will suffer the consequences.**

 **In the meantime though, reviews would be nice.**


	20. Mischance and Misfortune

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 20

 **Here's a short one with a little more whump. Thank you for your responses to the previous chapter. Upon re-reading it, thought it needed a bit of fixing. Shortened it by a paragraph or two. You may not even notice the difference. Hope you don't mind my insecurity.**

 **SPNGran is having her own computer catastrophes this week so she had to proof this chapter on her cell. Imaginary Beta is totally impressed but no more helpful than usual so any remaining errors are mine.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't get paid for this and therefor can't afford that trip to Hawaii but perhaps I should count my blessings. I'm in no danger of being arrested for stalking. As the saying goes, 'There's a silver lining to every friggin' cloud!' (threw in an extra word there).**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Mischance and Misfortune

Striding along in the predawn, the tall blonde man pulled damp silk away from his skin. His shoes still made a squelching sound with each step and it felt as though his underwear had acquired a layer of sand between it and the more delicate parts of his body.

Still, he knew he was lucky. He'd escaped being executed and then he'd managed to pull himself from the disgustingly murky water after swimming what seemed the length of Honolulu Harbor to land on a miniscule patch of sand at the base of the bridge to Sand Island. Lurching toward the lights of a small strip mall further along the access road, he found what is probably one of the few pay phones left in Honolulu.

His very expensive cell phone is now just a drowned regret. Despite his reservations about touching what he considers a disease carrying instrument of death, he reluctantly picked up the receiver to call a taxi.

….

He could hear his phone ringing but it seemed to be coming from miles away. He knew he was laying on the floor because he can feel the polished wood cool against his cheek. _Huh. Why am I on the floor?_ he wondered. There weren't any specific places that hurt. Rather, it's an all over pain; every joint, every bone, every inch of skin seemed to be on fire but he was strangely cold at the same time. His mouth tasted like blood.

Well, whatever. He'd better answer that phone. He opened his eyes and raised his head but that was as far as he got.

The ringtone signaling an incoming call stabbed through the morning quiet once again; the man on the floor oblivious to the intrusion. When it stopped, the only sound remaining was the muted boom of waves pummeling the shore outside the window.

…..

When the cab pulled up in front of the convenience store, its wary driver almost cruised past without stopping. _The guy looks like a drowned 'iole_ , thought the cabbie as he warily eyed his potential passenger. But, upon closer inspection in illumination provided by a faux neon sign over the door of Harbor Mini-Mart, he reconsidered.

What made this fare a bit less worrisome is though his clothing is wet, it's expensive. He recognized the shirt; a silk Tommy Bahama he knew cost at least a hundred clams. It's something he himself could buy as a knock-off for less than half the price, (if he even wanted one).

He hadn't even lowered his window but when the guy walked up to the car and extracted what looked like a couple of hundred-dollar bills from his wallet to wave at him he reconsidered his reservation. Still eying him warily, the cabbie threw the gear of his Ford into park.

"I don't need any change." said the man who held out the wilted money toward him. Those words clinched the deal.

The window whirred down and taking the limp pieces of paper gingerly between thumb and forefinger the cabbie nodded saying, "Okay, you got yourself a ride, brah, but hold on a second." He exited the vehicle and went quickly to its trunk to pull out a ratty blanket to spread on the back seat then gestured for his passenger to get in.

"Where you wanna go?" he asked as he slid back behind the wheel of his cab.

"Take me to a motel." answered the man in the soggy but costly clothing, "One in the less touristy part of town, but clean, and not where there's the possibility I may be mugged or end up on the five-o'clock news as a murder victim."

"You got it." said the cabbie thinking, _Maybe the guy's just hiding out from the pissed-off husband of a girlfriend, or maybe a boyfriend. Whatever. These haole tourists do crazystupid shit all the time. Anyway, even wet money spends bettah than none._

…...

They'd been at the museum by six-thirty this morning. The assistant museum director, looking sleep deprived, had been roused from his bed to open up the building. Perhaps the cause of the deprivation was not so much due to Five-0's early morning wake-up call but because late last night he'd learned his boss had been found dead. He wouldn't really miss the guy; Atwell was a jerk, but still . . .

It took not long at all to find what they were looking for despite it being hidden behind a wall hung with hundreds of works of art stored in the museum's basement. The switch that activated it was hidden in the base of an ancient tiki, huge and made of red lava stone, it looked out of place among the nineteenth century artifacts in this section of the storage area.

Cleverly designed, the panel was slightly recessed which allowed it to slide, with artwork still attached, behind another section of wall. Gliding almost silently on hidden tracks, it moved aside to reveal a tunnel that itself is a work of art. Concrete lined and lit with LED rope lights, its construction had obviously been part of the planned substructure of the Loulea Convention Center. It wasn't an add-on.

Walking the eighty feet or so to its other end, they found another switch set into the wall. Pressing it, the concrete panel before them opened to reveal the backs of the stacked wooden crates in the convention center storage area; the ones Steve and Lori had discovered.

 _The hyperactive moron was right,_ thought Danny, _But I'm still not gonna let him off the hook for pulling the stunt he did._

"So, that stubborn sonofabitch figured it out. There is a tunnel between the two buildings." said Lou Grover almost in awe.

"Yeah, I guess that means I can't kill him." said Danny grudgingly.

"Nah, you still can." chuckled Grover, "I promise I won't tell where you hid the body."

… _._

After the very promising beginning of their workday, Danny and Lou, having left the crime scene techs to glean whatever they could, arrived at the office by eight am. Knowing that Steve, ill or not, would be awake by dawn, Danny called to tell him his theory had panned out. The call rolled over to voice mail. Frowning, the detective left a message for his partner to contact him, 'when you get your lazy ass out of bed'.

At eight-twenty, he'd tried again to reach Steve but had no luck. His friend hadn't returned his call and each new attempt to contact him ended with the usual voice-mail greeting telling the caller to leave a message; Steve's recorded voice sounding as abrupt as when he answers the phone in person.

At eight-thirty, unable to ignore the worry that crept closer with each passing minute, Danny made his decision.

"Chin, I'm gonna go check on Rambo." he said as he jangled his keys in his hand. "I know it could be nothing but I've called at least three times and left messages and he hasn't called me back. That's not like him. He's always been good at staying in contact, if only because the control freak thinks he might miss something he needs to, you know, control."

Chin recognized the Jersey detective's concern and volunteered, "I'll go with you, Danny. If it's nothing and Steve really is out swimming to Molokai, he's going to need me for protection when you catch up with him."

Even though he'd couched it in humor, the Hawaiian was worried as well. It totally wasn't like their leader to ignore phone calls.

…..

Mr. Nozaki is not happy. His two henchmen nervously await their fates. Last night, after debating whether to tell him they'd failed, or just hightail it off the island and try to avoid their own executions, they'd notified him that the thief had escaped.

 _I should kill them._ Thought the silver-haired oyabun as he stared at his underlings with all the friendliness of a cobra; flat black eyes giving no indication of his intentions.

They'd failed to carry out his orders to make Martin Shaftbottom disappear. True, the man _had_ disappeared but not in the intended way. Now, he had to consider what would happen if Shaftbottom decided to seek safety with one of the island's law enforcement agencies. He had people in every department but Five-0. There are others as well all over the island who would contact him if the thief was spotted but, in the meantime, he must decide if these two miserable failures before him should continue to breathe.

Decisions, decisions.

…..

Danny and Chin pulled into the drive of the McGarrett house. Nothing looked amiss, Steve's big blue Silverado stood in the driveway where it usually does. They got out of the car and walked toward the front door; checking along the way for signs that something may be wrong. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

Danny rang the doorbell then, after waiting maybe only five seconds, called out, "Hey! Steve!" as he pounded impatiently on the locked door.

"Yo! Steve! Open up!" yelled the Jersey detective as he sorted through his keyring then, finding the right one, inserted it into the lock. Cautiously pushing the door open, both men entered warily, hands near their holsters. Danny immediately went to the keypad near the door and disarmed the alarm.

Calling out as they searched the lower floor there was no sign that Steve had even been downstairs this morning. The coffeemaker hadn't been used and there were no dishes in the dish rack, (heaven forbid there should be some in the sink). Still calling out for their friend, they trotted up the stairs to the second floor.

The bedroom door was ajar and pushing it open they immediately spotted the man on the floor.

There is a night stand on it's side and pieces of a broken lamp litter the floor. Steve's cell phone lay a few feet away against the baseboard where it had landed.

"Oh, shit!" exclaimed Danny as he rushed forward to drop to his knees next to his friend.

Steve is curled on his side and shivering. His complexion is waxy and other than spots of a fevered flush to his cheeks and the blood seeping from his nose, it's completely colorless. There's a puddle of red on the wooden floor beside him where he'd probably lain for a while before he'd curled into a trembling ball.

"Babe!" exclaimed Danny as he put his hand on his friend's bare shoulder and felt the abnormal amount of heat radiating off his skin. "Come on. Open your eyes for me." he exhorted, "Steven, wake up."

"He feels like he's got a hell of a fever, Chin." said the blonde as he pressed his hand against this friend's forehead.

"I'll call an ambulance!" exclaimed Chin straightening from his crouch beside them to pull his cell out of his pocket.

"Steven, talk to me." cajoled Danny as he pushed sodden strands of hair off Steve's damp brow.

"They'll be here in five." announced Chin as he darted away. In a moment he strode back from the bathroom with a washcloth he'd wet under the tap and handed it Danny.

As Danny began to wipe down his partner's head and neck with the cool cloth then dabbed at the blood slowly trickling down his upper lip, Steve began to groan and stir.

"You know it's not a good idea to sleep on your face, right?" asked Danny as he saw two glazed eyes flutter open; confusion in them. They searched the room to establish exactly where in the world he is which is apparently something of a puzzle at the moment.

"Wha hpnd?" asked Steve in a gravely voice as he tried to sit up only to be met with a hand that pushed on his chest to keep him from doing so.

"What happened is, you did exactly what you weren't supposed to do and now you're going for another ride in a big, shiny, ambulance." answered Danny.

"Why?"

"Why did you ignore your doctor's orders or why is it that you landed on your face on the floor of your bedroom?"

"Yeh." answered Steve, obviously addressing the second part of Danny's question.

"Looks like you've got a really bad fever that we're going to have to get taken care of."

"Oh." said Steve, "Thass why I maybe I felt a li'l warm at dinner."

"Ya think?" snorted Danny who continued to mop at his friend's much too heated skin.

"Brah" said Chin to the man lying on the floor as handed his teammate another wet washcloth in exchange, "You shoulda mentioned that you weren't feeling well."

"Thought maybe I was jus' tired." replied Steve as his eyes began to drift closed.

"Hey!" exclaimed Danny as he gently jostled his friend. "Stay awake for a couple more minutes, okay? You have to say hi to the EMT's. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you again." he said sarcastically though he was fearfully concerned about his friend's temperature.

Despite requests, then orders, that he stay awake; Steve's eyes close again as his shaking increased. It's strong enough that Danny can't tell if it's just more shivering or perhaps even a seizure. He knew from his own experience with a fevered Gracie that a high temperature can cause seizures in children but he wasn't sure what the consequence could be for an adult.

"Mm so co. . . cold, D'nny . . ." moaned Steve as he drew his arms to his chest and curled tighter, his teeth chattering as his friend looked on helplessly.

The faint sound of an ambulance in the distance became louder and Chin announced, "I'll go open the door for them." then dashed out of the room.

Said Danny to his friend who is now groaning and mumbling incoherently, "Just hang in there, babe." As he stroked sweat soaked hair, he crooned, "You'll be okay. It's okay, Steven."

He hoped with everything in him that he's not lying.

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 **Next update hopefully by Saturday or sooner. Please let me know what you think of this one.**

 **PS – Am still disappointed by the ending of the finale. Don't think they should have gone there. Too many repercussions to that decision. It will be interesting to see what they do with it.**


	21. Last Chances

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 21

 **I thank all of you who were kind enough to comment on the last chapter. If you've enabled pm's I will always try to respond to your comments. If you have any suggestions as to what might make the story or my writing better, I'd be happy to hear them.**

 **SPNGran once again braved the cannons and performed her duty to heroic proportion. Any remaining booboos are mine.**

 **Disclaimer: Never made any money from this and am convinced that old saying about 'not missing what you've never had' is bunch of hooey.**

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Last Chances

 _Am I_ _a prisoner?_

He'd already tried opening his eyes but the vague blobs he could make out were only disorienting so he squeezed them shut again.

 _I'm fucking freezing!_

His body tells him he's plunged into an icy ocean; his bones ache with cold, but when did that happen? He wonders if maybe he's dreaming about his long ago cold water training in BUDS but decides the physical sensations are too strong even for a nightmare.

 _Who are they?_

He knows there are people surrounding him. He hears voices but they make no sense.

 _What language is that? It can't be English. If it is, I'd understand it, right?_

Hands pull at his clothing but he's now shivering so much he can't form words to tell them to stop and is reduced to groaning his protest.

 _Why_ _is it_ _so_ _cold,_ _dammit_ _?!_

He tries to fight as fabric is tugged away from raw feeling skin and the air grows more frigid though he didn't think it even possible. It spurs his efforts to escape his captors.

"Hey, hey! Knock it off dammit!", admonished a familiar voice. "Steven! Stay still!"

The voice sounded very like Danny's. He paused in his battle against the hands that pin his arms and legs but, suddenly feeling as though he's falling, he flails out to keep himself from plummeting to an unknown fate.

"Ow!" he hears as the back of his hand smacks against skin.

He tries to tell him he was only trying not to fall but his words seem to assemble in no particular order. They made no sense even to him.

Then someone threw their weight across his body and he arches up trying to dislodge whoever is laying atop him. Not yet completely successful at finding his voice he yells, "Geh offa me you muth'fkr!

"Calm down, Steven! We're only trying to help you!" said the voice again.

Once again pausing in his struggle, he opens his eyes to blink many more times before finally bringing a face into focus; one that is much too close to his own. Worried blue eyes were staring down into his from only inches away.

"Dnny?" he gasped out, ceasing at least his voluntary movements while he panted for breath; shudders still wracking his body. "Whuh . . . why'r you on toppa me?"

"I'm trying to keep you from hurting yourself or these nice people who are trying to help you." answered Danny in what he hoped is a soothing tone.

Steve tries to look beyond his friend and can make out that he's where he really, really, didn't want to be – in a hospital.

"You with us now?" asks Danny, still staring down at him, forearm pressed against his friend's collarbone to keep him from either rising from or falling off the ER bed. The transfer to it from the EMT's gurney had triggered some sort of struggle but, other than continual shudders, Steve seemed to have given it up.

"Yeh, but why'm I here?" he asked, blinking up at his surroundings. "Mm' I sick?" he asked, hoping that would explain why he's mostly naked and surrounded by strangers while his best friend lays draped over him.

"You could say that." replied Danny, as he lifted himself off his friend's body now that Steve seemed at least a little more with it. Patting him on a bare shoulder he said, "You have a really nasty infection, Steven. It went from mild to raging in zero-to-sixty. We were lucky to find you when we did before it got even worse."

"Oh." said Steve still looking as though he may not be entirely convinced of that fact before he gasped out, "Ss cold . . . 'mm freez'n."

"Yeah, babe. I know that's how it feels but if you stay still so they can give you some meds, you'll feel better in a little while. They're trying to cool you down."

"Arready too c'cold." said Steve, voice trembling with the iciness that had invaded his core.

"No, babe, you're too hot." corrected Danny, "Your temperature is way too high.

He took a step away from the bed as several leery caregivers cautiously approached their formerly combative patient. They'd been waiting for the go ahead to resume treatment and one of them, a beefy male orderly, appeared to have an eye beginning to swell.

"Nn . . . need warm." Steve ground out with his jaw clenched; trying mightily to keep his teeth from chattering as his body was continually wracked with chills.

"Commander, we're going to put some ice packs on you to try to get that temperature down. It's much too high right now, that's why you're feeling so bad." said someone beside the bed, most likely a doctor, sounding at once sympathetic and annoyed.

"No, m'cold." insisted Steve as he curled on his side to draw himself into a trembling bundle.

With gentle but insistent hands and his friend's encouragements they managed to get the shivering man to uncurl and lay on his back. Danny backed a little further away to stand arms crossed over chest, to give them as much room as possible to work but close enough to help if Steve slipped back into fever induced delirium and once again devolved into fight or flight mode.

While his arms were being palpated Steve, continuing to shiver, turned his head and locked eyes with the worried man standing only a few feet from the side of the bed.

They were having difficulty finding another vein to begin a much needed antibiotic drip. Besides trying to hit a constantly moving target due to their patient's unintentional writhing and continual shivering, Steve's normally prominent veins weren't all that easy to access because of dehydration. Bruises were already forming under his skin from several unsuccessful sticks.

Finally, the nurse who'd been in the ER the last time he'd been here called out, "Got it!" She'd been working on a patient in another bay but they'd requested her assistance because she is the ER's acknowledged expert at sticking hard to find veins.

"Finally!" declared a balding man next to the bed, "Let's start that drip and get those ice packs on him."

Steve took his eyes off Danny to blink at a doctor he didn't recognize. At least it wasn't Dr. Farina. She'd be pissed for sure and, right now, it seemed as though the entire universe is pissed at him.

"Commander, we're going to give you something to help you relax." said the doctor.

"Kay." responded his patient; strong shudders still coursing through his body. Maybe being knocked out is a good idea right now. "Sounds good." added the shivering man.

From the corner of the room, Danny watched as another bag of fluid was hung from the metal stand beside the bed; its tubing quickly threaded through an IV drip monitor. Other bags of fluids were left as gravity drips. A nurse approached with a syringe and stuck the needle into a port on one of the drips then pushed in the plunger. She adjusted the flow and, satisfied with the rate of infusion, patted Steve on the arm and said, "You'll be pretty sleepy in another couple of minutes. Just go with it, commander."

Steve once again sought out his friend and their gazes steadied on one another while people bustled about. After barely more than a minute Danny could see that, though he continued to shiver, all the tension had left Steve's body right before his eyes finally closed.

The worried detective was tempted to breathe a sigh of relief but there were too many questions left to answer before he could do that.

When Steve recovers from this latest setback will he be able to start the new drug? Will the infection hamper the drug's effectiveness? Would this cancel the proposed treatment altogether? Does this mean that Steve is now doomed to be on dialysis for the rest of his life?

Danny sighed mightily and stepped out into the hallway to call the team with an update. Whether he likes it or not, Steve is going to need his ohana.

….

Hisao and Junichi know they've been given a second, (and last), chance to get the job done. Their oyabun had been generous in his decision to let them try to make up for the error of letting the thief escape. They couldn't afford to screw-up their reprieve.

All they have to do is find the gaijin and kill him. The killing wouldn't be all that difficult, they'd done it before, and now, they knew better than to take the not very dangerous looking thief for granted. Mr. Nozaki ordered them to notify his Hawaiian contacts and have them put out the word to the organization's sources of information for all of Honolulu and beyond. Their people at the airports, Honolulu International and the smaller ones, hadn't yet spotted the man.

Of course the sea routes would have to be checked as well. Mr. Nozaki's contacts were even more numerous in the maritime industries. They'd find him as soon as he tried to get off the island. Their oyabun impatiently waived them off to go about their duty.

It won't be long, nodded the two henchmen to one another. Martin Shaftbottom is a dead man.

…

The forensics people had pulled prints from the button mechanisms in the tunnel and from some rolls of tape abandoned on the floor of it. AFIS came up with the names of John Boden, the teamster killed at the convention center, and that of another man who'd been one of the guys on the museum's temporary crew the day of the heist. Both men had records of petty theft and minor crimes in the past.

There was also an unidentified set of prints that had no match in the database. It would be interesting to locate its owner. The team had the strong suspicion the mystery fingerprints may be those of someone higher up the foodchain in this operation. These prints hadn't been found on any of the tools left in the tunnel, (implements required to actually do manual labor), they were only on the buttons that triggered mechanisms to open the doors at both ends of the tunnel. Surely someone who'd been so conscientious in planning the operation would have to ascertain for him or herself that the artwork was being handled correctly.

In addition, it appeared as though the 'accidental' death of the teamster needed more looking into. Kono and Lori were disappointed in themselves for not thinking it had a connection to their initial investigation. The women doubled down on their efforts. They tore apart the late museum director's files and found a receipt for an overnight shipment from a local hauler. It had been contracted to be made on the last day of the trade show and gave the destination of a pier at Honolulu Harbor. The name of the ship wasn't listed but a look into the harbor master's records could probably provide that.

Now that there was suspicion of murder, they hadn't much trouble obtaining a warrant to search through the deceased's mail. In the late teamster's they'd found a dunning notice for the balance of money owed for purchase of four wooden crates that were to be delivered to the convention center. Apparently, Boden was killed before he'd taken care of it.

The connection between Loulea Convention Center and the state museum wasn't just a physical one. Now that most of the pieces were in place, all they had to do is locate buyer and seller – no problem.

…..

Steve hadn't been awake when he'd left so Danny had given the contact number to Tina with the request to call him if needed and asked if she'd relay the message to her patient that someone from the team would be back to see him this evening. He'd been at the hospital for hours and only when his partner had finally been declared stable did he feel he could return to HQ.

"I _told_ him I didn't want to see him back on this floor." said the big nurse with a shake of her head. Tina was dismayed to recognize the man who'd been wheeled into the step-down unit two hours ago. Though he wasn't assigned to her, she'd traded patients with another nurse on the floor knowing this one needed a caregiver who was immune to his charms, (well, _mostly_ immune). Her coworker was one who'd been taken with the handsome commander on his last hospitalization only a few days ago. Tina had no doubt McGarrett could easily manipulate the infatuated young woman. It was only a matter of time before the man would be wandering the hallways at all hours despite the order he remain in bed.

"Yeah, don't waste your breath, Tina. Believe me, I've been working with the guy for years. It's like dealing with a cat. You can talk to 'em 'till you're blue in the face but they're still gonna do what they're gonna do." said Danny.

"I know exactly what you mean." said the big nurse nodding her head in agreement. "Well, I'm on the job now and he isn't gonna get anywhere by batting those eyelashes at me." she said firmly, "I saw how he worked it last time. Some of the ladies here are way too easily swayed by that crap."

Danny had to chuckle. 'That crap' had been happening for years. Steve, a man as loyal to his woman as anyone he'd ever met, could get many miles out of a smile and the aforementioned batting of eyelashes. This calculated charm had served Five-0 well many times in the past to gain the cooperation of those who were reluctant to part with needed information. At first a bit disconcerting to witness, Danny had actually come to expect this weapon to be deployed when the situation called for it.

Actually, maybe it was a good sign that Steve was up to using his secret weapon again. After Catherine had left, there'd not been much evidence this talent even existed. Steve had been as focused as usual but the spark was missing.

Perhaps, despite his physical challenge, Five-0's leader is getting back at least a bit of his old self. Danny certainly hoped so. He'd missed him.

…

He'd only been awake for a few minutes when Fanning made an appearance. The doctor tapped and prodded and frowned but, so far, hadn't said much other than, "So, you just couldn't bear to be away from us, huh?"

"Tina already yelled at me." grumpily responded his patient. Besides feeling like crap, the sedative he'd been given hadn't yet worn off completely. It just added to the events over which he had no control and fueled his frustration.

"You sure don't do things the easy way." muttered the hematologist as he examined the newest bruising on the insides of his patient's arms.

"Yeah, that's what my team always tells me. One guy in particular." said Steve almost resignedly

"Can't imagine who that might be." snorted Fanning as he gestured for the man to sit up from his inclined position on the bed.

Checking the older bruising on his patient's back, and lifting the bandage to check the deep scratch that was the cause of this latest hospitalization, the doctor was pleased to note that the multi-colored splotches looked no worse and the deep scratch, though still angry looking, appeared to have begun scabbing over. The transfusions Steve had been given appeared to be helping with the bleeding issue, but they'd have to be even more watchful from now on for any signs of additional infection and the blood clots that can form in lungs and extremities due to septic shock.

"Well, you're fever is down thanks to the quick response by our worse-for-wear ER department." said Fanning, looking over the top of his wire-rimmed eyeglasses.

Steve couldn't help but look guilty. Tina had given him the lowdown on who in the ER he'd caused damage to. There were apparently several. Actually, he should probably just get a couple of twenty-pound boxes of chocolates and send them to the entire Emergency Room morning shift. Apologizing with candy is probably a good idea considering that his team has the reputation of occasionally needing the use of their services. Couldn't hurt.

"The scratch on your side that started all this doesn't look all that bad considering, but your arms looks like hamburger from all the bruising caused by multiple attempts to get a vein. You're lucky you didn't wind up with a central line. The rest of you doesn't look all that bad." deemed Fanning. "How do you feel?"

"Pretty much as you described my arms; like hamburger." chuffed Steve. "I'm really tired, even more than before if that's even possible."

"Well, it's good that we got control of the infection so quickly but I'm afraid you're not going anywhere for several days at the very least." said Fanning as he put his stethoscope back into his pocket.

"Think I figured that one out already." glumly responded his patient.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear but we're going to have to do some serious re-evaluation, Steve. We have to decide if the drug is still going to be effective since your body now has to deal with this infection. You'll be on some pretty strong antibiotics for several days yet."

Fanning had now removed his eyeglasses and in an unconscious reveal of his concern, (much like Danny's running his hands along the sides of his hair), he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Shan and I will be going over your latest readings and will come up with our recommendation for your treatment; whether there'll be any changes."

"You mean, whether I'm still a candidate to take the drug." said Steve trying not to reveal his own anxiety. If he couldn't take the new drug, (and if it didn't work), he's doomed to a life drastically different from his current one. Without the Navy or Five-0, what is he going to do?

Though McGarrett appears calm, Fanning noted the numbers on the silenced heart monitor's display. The rate had sped up considerably and was beginning to show a few pvc's. He knows that anxiety is probably compounding the mild tachycardia that had initially been brought on by the anemia.

"You know we're going to do our best for you." said the hematologist, hoping to somehow reassure his patient. But the man is much too sharp not to realize the consequences of any change in his proposed treatment.

"I know, Tom. I guess I wasn't prepared for something to go wrong even before I started the drug." sighed McGarrett.

"Steve, despite your promise to follow my instructions, I don't think you took me seriously when I OK'd you to leave the hospital."

McGarrett started to protest but Fanning interrupted by saying, "I didn't say don't go back to work but I obviously didn't think I had to. You're a smart man and I thought you could figure out that one by yourself."

Steve dropped his head before looking back up with his face blank but Fanning knew the man would probably be blushing if it was even possible considering the anemia.

"Yeah, I know." said McGarrett, "What I did was pretty dumb."

"Yes, it was." nodded Fanning before taking a breath to say, "Look, I know you're used to being physically active but, right now, that's not an option. You've got to slow it down. You've got to be very, very, careful right now. Any little thing, like that scratch, or becoming too tired or putting yourself in any situation detrimental to your health can have incredibly serious consequences for you."

Steve nodded. "I get it. If I didn't believe it before, putting myself back in the hospital has hammered it home. Trust me."

Fanning nodded at Steve's acknowledgment of the error in judgment that had almost been fatal. "But mostly, Steve, you've got to give your friends a chance to help you. From what I've seen, you've got some really good ones."

Steve swallowed and looked away before bringing his eyes up to meet his doctor's earnest gaze,

"I know." he said barely loud enough to hear.

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 **NOTE: From here on, medical stuff will have to carry a disclaimer similar to the one carried by docudramas. It will be 'based on'. Will try not to stray too far from reality but will be taking a bit of literary license if neccessary.**

 **Reviews are like water to a carnival goldfish.**


	22. Battles

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 22

 **Okay, here's one finished a day sooner than expected. The explanation for that rare occurrence appears at the end of this chapter. Major hurt and a bit of comfort planned for next update.**

 **The first draft was betaed by SPNGran and the final one by a very jumpy Imaginary Beta. Just cut them some slack this time. They have a good excuse. Will undoubtedly have to sneak back to fix errors.**

 **Disclaimer: No money was made and no annoying cats were harmed in the making of this story.**

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Battles

Doctors Fanning and Shan were engaged in discussion – loudly. Their voices echoed down the long corridor as people hurried by the conference room doorway; some wincing as they passed. "DON'T BE AN ASSHOLE!" someone thundered right before the door was slammed shut with enough force to send air rushing down the hallway like an invisible tsunami.

Voices now contained within the space their owners actually occupied, the heated discussion raged on.

"Look, Tom" began Lloyd Shan the nephrologist, "I don't think the guy's got a chance in hell that this drug is going to work for him!"

"Do you really think that or are you worried he's going to screw-up the drug study if he dies?!" responded Fanning, his pale eyes blazing.

Furious that he'd been accused of valuing statistics over an actual life, Shan growled, "I only want what's best for my patient, dammit! McGarrett has a chance to live a relatively normal life on dialysis!"

"If you want what's best for _our_ patient you'd realize that a 'normal' life for him isn't one that would be considered normal for ninety-nine percent of the rest of the world. The guy's a Navy SEAL who runs the Governor's Special Task force!"

"Well, his SEAL days are most likely over and he can probably run the task force from behind a desk." replied Shan, arms crossed defensively over his barrel chest as he stood toe to toe with the hematologist.

"Lloyd" said Fanning through clenched jaw, "We've got to give him a chance to remain as active as possible!"

"Look, his life may not be as active but at least he'll have one! He's tough, he'll adjust." said Shan a bit too dismissively for Fanning's taste.

"Sure, he's tough as they come, that's probably why he's even doing as well as he is right now. His chosen profession prior to becoming leader of Five-0 required an extreme level of physical fitness. One has to be incredibly driven and have a will of iron to become a Navy SEAL. As far as adjusting to being on dialysis, from what I've witnessed, he'll probably do whatever it takes to be the best dialysis patient who ever existed but he shouldn't have to."

Shan snorted but couldn't disagree with his colleague's assessment of his patient's character. McGarrett had lived a life that requires one to give their all and then, drawing from a well most of us don't even possess, find more to give.

Fanning continued, "This drive is part of who the commander is. He doesn't have to say it but I know that pushing himself physically is a tool he uses to maintain his mental and emotional well being. If he can't remain in the field, it could well mean a different kind of death. I think we've gotta let him have a shot at staying off the machine."

"The drug's just not going to work for him, Tom! You're the damned hematologist; surely you know that McGarrett's latest blood work indicates there just aren't enough viable cells left to successfully regenerate."

Fanning wasn't giving up. "To put it in a way you'd be more likely to understand, Lloyd," said the hematologist in a not uncondesending tone, "It would be comparable to you, the best nephrologist in the country, leader of a world-class renal health department, giving up medicine to be the best ever leader of the country's best ever branch of the DMV. It might be the best one but it isn't what you know you were born for."

Shan paused for a long moment of consideration. Fanning could almost see the wheels turning and then the formation of a decision in his foe's mind before the man sighed and seemed to deflate. Stocky body no longer in an oppositional stance, he uncrossed his arms and raised his brows then asked, "You think I'm the best nephrologist in the country?"

" _That's_ what you get out of this conversation?" replied Fanning incredulously shaking his head from side to side. He's not entirely sure his colleague wasn't just screwing with him.

Shan smirked at his friend's look of incredulity but his dark eyes lost all humor as he got back on track. "Commander McGarrett's still got a hell of an infection. We've thrown everything but the kitchen sink at it; medications that won't finish destroying his renal function. That mixture of meds may interfere with the effectiveness of the proposed treatment. You think we can wait for it to resolve?"

"His platelet count is hovering at just below 50,000 right now and getting lower. If we wait too much longer he may be headed for a spontaneous bleed." responded the hematologist, not yet sure if he'd actually swayed Shan's opinion.

"And, if we don't wait, he may not strong enough to deal with the side-effects of the drug." said the renal specialist, "At the very least, he's going to be miserable."

"He's already miserable." responded Fanning. "He's one of my more stoic patients so he doesn't indicate just how wretched he's feeling but I know. He's a tough bastard."

"Yeah, I think him winding up here again so soon after being released is a clue as to how tough he _thinks_ he is. Anyone else would have gone home and stayed in bed." snorted Shan.

"Well, he's ready to behave himself now. This latest adventure has finally made an impression." assured the hematologist. "I'm pretty sure he's embarrassed and willing to be more cooperative."

Shan, still annoyed by his colleague's accusation that he was more concerned about the drug trial than the patient, huffed out a breath before saying, "Alright, we'll present all the information about how sick he's going to feel and how much of a risk it is. He can make his own decision."

"I think if we give him the choice, he'll go for it despite the side-effects. He'll take the chance." declared Fanning.

"When is he scheduled for another transfusion?" asked Shan.

"First thing in the morning." replied Fanning having removed his glasses to polish them on the hem of the polo shirt he wore under his jacket; finally relaxing a bit after the furious verbal battle.

"Why don't we meet with him around nine? He'll probably be feeling a little better." suggested Shan.

"Yeah, he will for a little while anyway." agreed the hematologist. "That would be the best time to talk to him."

Looking vastly relieved now that their 'discussion' is over and they'd arrived at a temporary truce, the stocky nephrologist asked, "So, now that we've at least agreed on _that_ , you wanna go get a beer?"

"Yeah, sounds good." smiled Fanning. "You're buying." he said as he gathered up his patient's information and stuffed it into a thick folder to tuck under his arm before he headed for the door.

"You've always been a cheap bastard." snorted Shan following him out into the hallway.

"Yeah, but I'm good lookin'." smiled Tom Fanning, "Makes up for it."

"Dream on, Mr. Pitt." snorted Lloyd Shan as both men sauntered down the hallway, unaware there was a collective sigh of relief from those around them.

…

Martin jumped at every sound. Sleeping isn't even a thought right now. He had to figure out how to get off this damned island without being discovered by Nozaki's troops and snuffed like an extra in a disaster movie.

How could that bastard decide to kill him rather than pay him and let him go on his way? They had an agreement dammit!

He knows his chances of getting out of this alive aren't good. He may be able to get past the Yakuza boss's spies but it would be difficult to say the least. The guy has eyes and ears everywhere!

During the construction of the convention center it had been creepy that all he had to do was casually mention the need for building materials ranging from sacks of concrete to complicated electronic mechanisms and, by the next day, they'd almost magically appear on the job site.

Today, his only venture out had been a walk to the Walmart a couple blocks away to get sundries and a change of clothing. The selection on the racks in the men's section was just ugh. He'd finally decided on something one would see on some sort of blue-collar type; Levi's, a T-shirt and those hideous rubber sandals. His friends at home would be horrified if they saw him dressed that way.

On the way back he'd stopped at McDonald's to pick up some lunch. If he is going to dress like a peasant, he may as well eat like one. Actually, Micky D's had been a guilty pleasure of his for several years but if anyone ever accused him of indulging in such food he'd deny it.

Stuffing another McNugget into his mouth after dipping it in a puddle ketchup squeezed from those annoying little packets, he leaned back on the bed and grabbed the TV remote. He wasn't really concentrating on the short-haired blonde woman dressed in what he thought rather masculine clothing as she interviewed a celebrity he didn't recognize.

Eyes fixed unseeingly on the television screen he mulled over his options for escape from this godforsaken, so-called paradise. There weren't many and they all pretty much sucked.

…

Steve pressed the button to change the channel for what was possibly the hundredth time. _Those_ _women on 'The View'_ _are_ _all talking at the same time again!_ Flipping through several more choices, he finally settled on a rerun of Supernatural. Battling demons would be vastly more entertaining than watching a group of people trying to talk over one another. It only made his head hurt even worse than it already does.

Lori and Kono said they were going to stop by with food. He'd be happy to see them but eating anything, no matter what it may be, isn't very appealing right now. His stomach pretty much disagreed with anything he put in it and his mouth hurts like a bitch. Tina had given him some numbing solution to swish around but it had a strong medicinal taste they'd tried to mask with cherry flavoring. Gross.

His apprehension about tomorrow's meeting with his doctors wasn't helping. At least the transfusion scheduled for earlier that morning would help him feel a little better than the way he's currently feeling – a cross between a dishrag and a Rottweiler's chew toy.

He'd spoken with Danny over the phone and learned the hunt for the art thief is chugging along. They now had a set of prints to match with a suspect should they ever actually find him. With at least two murders tied-in with the heist, Denning must be ready to go ballistic. He'd bet the state's head honcho has probably been busy harassing Five-0's stretched thin teammates for updates on their progress with the ever expanding case. He feels guilty about not being able to help but maybe he should be grateful he doesn't have to listen to that crap.

With sigh of weariness and frustration he frowns up at the screen as some sort of evil creature explodes into tiny particles of black dust before going up in blue flames.

 _Huh._ _I_ _f only_ _we_ _could do that to the bad guys._

…

Things are looking up. Hisao and Junichi are much happier. There's the possibility their employer won't have them executed.

A contact at one of Honolulu's discount stores had phoned them to say that a man who may be the one they seek had been in the store to buy clothing and grooming supplies.

If their informant is correct, the thief is still in Honolulu and hasn't yet left the island.

Now, they have to seek out where he's gone to ground.

…

"Hey babe." said the blonde man who walked into the room without knocking.

Steve looked up and managed to come up with a weak smile. He'd spent most of the afternoon puking. What made it even more memorable was that he broke some blood vessels in his nose which resulted in a heavy nosebleed. The strain of retching also broke some of the capillaries in the tender skin under his eyes so, at the moment, with his nose stuffed with Celox and what looked nearly like two blackened eyes it wouldn't be hard to conclude he'd gone ten rounds and lost.

Bustling forward, Danny suddenly halted in his tracks and exclaimed "Whoa!" Approaching the bed much more slowly to get a closer look, he was pinned with an expression meaning 'Don't even'.

After finishing his silent evaluation, the compact detective finally declared, "Told you not to piss-off Kalakaua."

That one actually got a chuckle.

Plopping himself into the chair next to the bed, he set down the bag of sandwiches he'd brought. "So, why do you look like — you know — that?" he asked gesturing toward the man glaring back at him.

"Been puking all afternoon." glumly responded Steve, voice hoarse and pronunciation distorted because his nose is packed with hemostatic gauze. "I managed to break some blood vessels under my eyes."

"Over achieving again I see." said Danny with a shake of his head. "Maybe now's not a good time to ask but I brought you some dinner. You hungry?"

"What do _you_ think?" snorted Steve. Well, he would have snorted if he didn't have his nose stuffed with what felt like an acre of cotton. "Thanks for the thought though."

"So, what is the doctor's pronouncement . . . this time?" asked Danny as he took a sandwich out of the bag before pausing and asking with a raise of his eyebrows if it was going to bother his friend if he ate it in front of him.

After having worked together for so many years, the two sometimes didn't need words to communicate. Steve indicated it wouldn't be a problem just by using a dismissive hand gesture.

"There's a meeting at nine tomorrow. Both the hematologist and the kidney guy are gonna be there to talk to me. I have a suspicion that what they're going to say isn't going to make me happy." said Steve.

"I'll be there with you, babe." vowed Danny, setting down his sandwich on the rolling tray next to him before he'd taken the first bite. Leaning forward, he said, "You're not going through this alone – whether you want to or not."

"Thanks, Danny." replied Steve sincerely, "You . . . um . . . you're an amazing friend."

"So, you finally agree with the rest of the world, huh . . . that I'm amazing?" asked Danny before again picking up the sandwich and proceeding to take a less than dainty bite from it.

"Yeah, guess it took me a bit longer to catch on." replied Steve, swallowing to contain increasing queasiness. Maybe it isn't such a good idea to watch his friend chow down on what looked like a meatball sub. Bits of red sauce dripped onto the paper napkin Danny had tucked into his collar like a bib.

Seeing his friend suddenly pale while his Adam's apple bobbed suspiciously, Danny quickly re-wrapped his sandwich and stuffed it back into the bag along with the napkin he'd pulled from his collar. _So much for not being affected by watching me eat_ , he thought.

"Sorry, D." said Steve, closing his eyes and trying to breathe through the latest round of nausea.

"No worries." replied Danny. "I can delay my dinner if it means you won't be puking on me."

Steve managed a sickly grin. Inhaling and exhaling slowly through his mouth as he tried to control the rush of nausea. His friend looked on worriedly and was just about to grab a trash can just in case when Steve opened his eyes and cleared his throat to ask, "So, what's going on with the art heist? Any further leads?"

Danny, without relaxing his vigilance settled back into the chair and replied, "Kono and Lori are checking into the harbor master's records. There's lots to look at. Honolulu Harbor's apparently a pretty busy place."

"Yeah, eighty percent of the products used in Hawaii are landed there. It handles over eleven million tons of cargo annually." said Steve.

"Of course you'd know that." muttered Danny before going on, "Anyway, we're trying to put a hold on shipments leaving the harbor for the next few days. If the ship hasn't already sailed, maybe we can locate those crates."

"Chances are they're already gone and delaying international shipping is going to piss off a lot of people." said Steve pessimistically, (usually Danny's job).

"I'm pretty sure Denning is going to do everything he can. From what he'd told me during one of our discussions . . . "

"You mean a rant? After being partnered with you for so long I've become an expert on dealing with that method of communication." smiled Steve.

"Hey!" said Danny before catching himself and, you know – ranting. He began again, "He _said_ the State of Hawaii will be forever known as the place that managed to let twelve million dollars worth of priceless artwork disappear into thin air."

"Well, first of all, if it's priceless, how could he put a price on it?" chuffed Steve.

"Good point. Anyway, our head honcho is going to do anything he can to help us get the stuff back; so even if we have to dangle people from roofs or tie them to the hoods of cars, I think we're golden. We've got every uniform HPD could spare as well as Harbor Police, FBI, ATF . . . everyone but the friggin' PTA. They're going to be searching every ship and every outgoing container in the harbor."

"My bet is still on the oyabun that Adam told Kono about. If it's true that stolen Klimt painting is hanging over his mantle it proves he's got the interest and the financing to pull this off. He also would have a lot of contacts in the building and shipping industries."

"We're trying to find a connection but, so far, no luck." answered Danny.

"Anything on that mysterious set of prints?" asked Steve, sitting up with a grimace.

"There was a partial match to someone who'd been involved in a jewel heist in Milan a few years ago but they'd never been identified. Whoever it is got away with about three mill in assorted gems including some uncut diamonds."

"I suppose because they were uncut, there's no markings to identify them?" asked Steve, shifting around in the bed to try to find a more comfortable position.

"Nope, the thieves likely hired someone to cut them before they were sold. There's no way to track them now." answered the Jersey detective.

"So, we're dealing with someone who's had a lot of experience with stealing high-ticket stuff and, from what we've learned from the clues in the tunnel, he or she must be someone who's above doing manual labor."

"Exactly."

…

Normally, all he'd have to do is ring room service to have ice delivered but no such service was offered in his current plebeian digs. This is most annoying.

Martin was at the end of the hallway in the alcove where the ice machine is located. He was waiting impatiently for the noisy dispenser of frozen water to finish filling the plastic bucket he held under its spout.

The bucket half full, he'd just turned around to go back to his room when he saw them at the other end of the corridor. Nozaki's men were stealthily making their way toward his room. _Shit!_

They hadn't spotted him and he quickly ducked down the intersecting hallway that led to an emergency exit. He hoped it wasn't one of those that made an alarm go off when it was opened.

Flinging himself against the panic bar, he crashed through and immediately triggered a noise that would wake the dead. He fled into the bright sunlight of a parking lot and ran for his life. He is fairly fleet of foot. All the practice he'd had hightailing it from the thugs in his old hood served him well. He runs as though his life depends on it—because it does.

…...

 **There was an earthquake a little after** **1** **AM** **this morning so guess who didn't get any sleep and decided to make herself productive? It was only a 5.2;** **barely worth** **noticing say** **the BS artists of The Golden State. Just waiting for daylight so I can inspect for new cracks in concrete.** **Must first peel off** **Not-So-Ninja-Cat** **who** **has yet to unglue herself from me.**

 **R** **eviews would be soothing.**


	23. Different Paths

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 23

 **It's late and it's short and there's not much whump. Next chapter will fix the whump part. RL interfered with best laid plans so this wasn't all I'd hoped to crank out for you. Will do better next time.**

 **Once again SPNGran betaed the first version of this chapter to within an inch of its life but, once again, its OCD writer had to mess with it. Imaginary Beta was pulled into service for the final version. All errors are hers.**

 **Disclaimer: When writing this stuff, I try to keep in mind that old adage: 'Money isn't everything'. Actually, in this case, it's absolutely nothing.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Different Paths

He'd asked Tina to open the blinds but the weak light of a stormy morning did little to brighten the room.

Tethered to the half-empty bag hanging from a hook above the bed he lay staring out at the grey sky, lost in thought. What will the doctors recommend as his treatment? At best, it could mean days or even months of feeling like absolute crap with only enough strength to walk the few steps to the bathroom and back. Of course at worst, he could be dead in another few weeks so maybe that first scenario isn't so bad. The only thing of which he's certain is that whatever lay ahead, he'll deal with it and try not to burden anyone with his own limitations.

Outside, the rain came down in squalls heavy enough to obscure the view but here he is, dry and relatively comfortable. He liked rain – especially if he didn't have to be in it while slogging his way through mud almost knee deep in a swamp in a far off country – again. Gusts of wind blew the falling water sideways to splat against the window and he smiled. It was predicted to rain all day today – something else for Danny to bitch about.

It's only seven-forty-five a.m. and his partner had already called to say that he'd be able to make the nine o'clock meeting. They'd talked for a few minutes about nothing in particular but Steve knew what his friend was doing; assessing his frame of mind in anticipation of providing support if needed. Despite his bluster, the Jersey detective is an intuitive man.

Then, in succession, every member of his team had called from their homes to check-up on him. Steve ended the last call in near wonder. How had he managed to become part of such a crew? Five-0 is much more than just a cobbled together unit consisting of a transplanted Jersey detective, a disgraced ex-HPD cop, an inexperienced rookie, and a dismissed SWAT captain. They along with others, despite walking many different paths, had arrived at Five-0's door and stayed to become ohana.

What he isn't aware of is, if the members of his team had been asked what made them so fiercely loyal, their answer would have been that he had seen the potential in each of them and by encouragement, training, or example had shown them how to go from struggling individuals to a cohesive and incredibly effective unit respected by every law enforcement agency in the country. Without him, the heart of their ohana would be gone. Steve is the very core of this family born of necessity and forged in fire.

Impatiently glancing up once again at the only half-empty bag, he lay back his head and returned to thinking about one of the more pleasant events of the last few days. _It's really nice to see Lori again._ He'd spoken to her yesterday when she'd called to check on him and ask if he needed anything she could bring on her next visit. She'd also been one of those who called this morning.

From what Danny had said, their esteemed governor had gotten over his snit about the Homeland Security profiler being temporarily part of the task force. Denning should just be glad to have someone who knows how Five-0 works and isn't intimidated by that knowledge. They'd had temps before but it seems not everyone is thrilled with the fast pace and headlong pursuit of evildoers . . . wusses. _Wait 'till he sees the bill for her services,_ thought Five-0's sidelined leader with a grin. Though she'd volunteered, of course they'd pay Weston for her efforts on their behalf. It's only right that they should.

Kono seemed to be having a good time hanging out with her. Steve had the feeling their kick-ass island girl missed having another woman on the team. She'd always worked well with all the team's members and this time had helped ease the way for Lori to blend back in as though she'd never left.

Of course Kono had worked well with Catherine too but he felt she still harbored resentment toward Cath for leaving so abruptly but most likely the simmering anger is because she thought a friend had been betrayed by someone they loved. His ex and Kono had been sisters-in-arms and, at one time, had genuine affection for one another. Of course, who wouldn't have had affection for Catherine?

Once again, he felt that longing that had never completely left him. _What is she doing right now? Is she okay? Does she miss me?_ The anger he'd felt had finally lessened but the hurt remained. Would it ever go away?

Pulled from these musings when Tina bustled into the room with a cup of ice cream in her hand, he looked up and smiled.

She set the cup onto his tray, gave him a pointed look, then turned to check what remained of the red liquid in the bag above the bed.

"How you doing, honey?" she asked over her shoulder as she adjusted the flow rate.

"I'm good." he replied though he felt anything but. The headache and nausea were still hanging on.

"Yeah sure," she snorted in disbelief then added, "and just to remind you, Mr. Commander Steven McGarrett, I'm not a waitress so you'd better eat that ice cream. 'Cause if you don't, I'm gonna spill the beans to that little blonde man. We both know he'll have words for you – lotsa them no doubt."

"Yes ma'am." answered Steve resignedly. He hated it when she used both his first and last names to address him as though she was scolding a misbehaving kid. Despite being a grown man of many accomplishments and accolades, it somehow made him squirm. Still, he's grateful for her caring. He hadn't asked Tina to bring any ice cream but she'd made a special effort to get him something that might be more appealing than the greyish oatmeal that was breakfast. She'd already chastised him for refusing to eat it and just to get her off his case he'd drunk the apple juice that had come with it – and had barely managed to keep it down.

She was right about 'that little blonde man' though. He truly didn't want Danny on his case right now. Normally when the opinionated Jersey detective launched into a rant either at his partner or any number of things or people that had annoyed him on that particular day at that particular hour, he could always escape the torrent of words. Many times when he'd lost all patience with his his friend's rants and the choice was to continue a losing battle to ignore the man or just fucking shoot him, he found himself inventing reasons for having to suddenly leave the office.

Unfortunately there's no escaping anything for the time being. As a patient/prisoner of Queen's Medical Center and its numerous and watchful caregivers, there's nothing he could or _should_ do to get out of here. Despite what some people may think, he's not on a quest to off himself.

He wasn't completely sure if Tina was kidding or not when she'd told him there were wanted posters with his picture on it tacked-up at every nurse's station in the hospital. Even without that, escape wouldn't be easy because he's hooked up to a few too many devices at the moment; among them are seemingly dozens of little disks stuck to skin, (and chest hair), that are connected to the leads of the heart monitor beeping merrily away next to the bed. There's also the blood pressure cuff that inflates and deflates every few minutes as well as a pulse-ox thingamabob clamped on his finger. For a while there'd been an oxygen cannula under his nose but it was gone now. He'd won the argument with Tina, (or more like outlasted her), when she'd put it back after the many times he'd removed it before finally giving up. And, thank God, there was no foley to deal with. He's only required to endure the lesser indignity of peeing into a plastic container because they are still closely monitoring his output.

The morning had already been a bit disconcerting. Because of all the new bruising created when he'd been hauled into the ER this last time, nearly every nurse on the floor had been gathered around his bed to search for a viable location to stick the needle for the transfusion. There'd been a discussion among the them as to whether they should torture his arms further or if there was need to establish a longer term access to a large vein. He figured they were talking about the IV catheter needed for either the proposed drug treatment or maybe even the one needed for dialysis. He'd promised to behave himself so there wasn't much he could argue about. He'd have to trust them.

After several minutes the committee arrived at the consensus to hold off until the doctor's treatment plan was decided upon. It may require a port accessible for frequent infusions, in which case it would most likely be something called a picc line. No one had mentioned the permanent cath that had to be surgically implanted – the one used for long-term dialysis.

After much discussion, the decision had been made to try a less damaged part of his right arm to establish the IV. The nurse considered to have the best skills was chosen to do the honors and he, a guy named Julian, quickly located a usable vein and got it with the first stick. Steve was grateful the man is so talented.

After making notations on her tablet and giving him a final reminder to eat what she'd brought him, Tina left the room. He contemplated the vanilla ice cream slowly melting into a soupy puddle and picked up the plastic spoon next to the cup. After swallowing just a couple spoonfuls he grimaced and set it back on the tray then returned to staring vacantly out the window. It won't be long now.

….

Martin glanced nervously around the large and noisy room. People in damp clothing milled about looking for places to sit and eat their meal. Today's prefix breakfast menu at the shelter appeared to be a mound of pale yellow scrambled eggs, two slices of fried Spam accompanied by a few chunks of pineapple and a piece of buttered toast. He'd already heard from a woman who was wearing at least three layers of clothing and an incongruous glittery fake hibiscus in her hair who'd told him that the coffee here is actually decent. He was starving! His hasty retreat hadn't allowed him to go back to his room to retrieve his wallet so, until other arrangements could be made, he'd have to make his home with the homeless.

He nodded a thank you at the young man who plopped a scoop of eggs onto a paper plate and handed it to him. Then he obediently went down the line of volunteers serving up the remaining components of the meal from large foil trays. Finally, grabbing a Styrofoam cup, he sought a place to eat his only meal in two days and drink his allegedly decent coffee. The room was crowded with many other hungry diners.

"You can sit here, dude." said a grizzled, middle-aged, man wearing a beat-up baseball cap. He'd gestured toward an empty seat next to him at the long folding table as he flashed a nearly toothless grin.

"Uh, thanks." he replied as he set his plate down onto the plastic table top and seated himself on the folding chair. From the scent wafting from the direction of his new breakfast buddy, he knew why the chair had been empty.

Across from him sat a woman and three small and restless children. Next to them a wizened white-haired old woman with an almost corpse-like complexion sat concentrating on her plate and somehow managing to ignore her loud and obnoxious dining companions. He figured the old gal was deaf or perhaps may actually be dead. How could anyone sit through the whining and relentless questions?

"Mama, how come that man smells funny?" asked a kid who looked to be about seven or so. His younger brother beside him piped up, "What are all those squiggly blue lines on that lady's hands?" then it was their little sister's turn when the little girl loudly announced, "I have to go peepee!" Their mother gesturing toward the plates of food before them responded, "Just shut up and eat!" Luckily, the kids obeyed her.

He hoped the little brats wouldn't direct their attention across the table. Children were merciless. He'd endured their relentless bullying all through his formative years until he'd grown up enough to escape it. Actually, he'd escaped his entire past. The older boy's bright blue eyes lit on him. He gave the child a warning glare. If he were a dog, he'd have growled at the brat.

The man whose natural demeanor could never be considered macho and whose surname is Shaftbottom had no intention of giving the kid any reason to engage in conversation. The little bastards could be cruel. He knew this from unfortunate experience.

The odoriferous man who'd invited him to sit gave him a sideways glance. Martin could tell he was being evaluated. Just as he'd taken his first bite of eggs the guy smiled at him; revealing the vast gap in where there should have been teeth. "Soo . . . " began the grizzled man

 _Crap!_

….

They were back in the conference room again. Steve, had surprisingly agreed to be wheeled here and the chair was parked next to the one Danny occupied as they raptly listened to what the two medics laid out.

"If you choose to go ahead with the new drug, the odds of it working are even less at this point because of the infection you're still battling." said Dr. Shan.

"But, there's still a small chance it could work." hastily added Fanning before continuing his assessment of the current state of his patient's health. "Your latest blood tests indicate that your bone marrow is producing a minimal amount of both red and white cells though your platelet count is seriously deficient."

"Without the additional clotting factor you've received, even if you so much as nick yourself shaving right now, it would bleed like hell and with your immune system so compromised aka nearly non-existent, you could wind up with an additional infection." said Shan, "You're not using blades right now, are you?" he frowned.

"No, an electric razor." answered McGarrett wanting to add defensively, _I'm not stupid._

"No matter which treatment we go with," said Fanning, "life will probably not be easy for you for the next few weeks and it's important that you follow our instructions very carefully to ensure that the outcome of this situation is in your favor. It would be best for you to remain here at Queens until we're satisfied your infection is gone and your immune system can handle being elsewhere."

"What he means is if you want to actually remain alive, you must cooperate fully and stay hospitalized for several more days if not weeks." translated Dr. Shan who had not an ounce of bedside manner in his entire fireplug-shaped body.

"But . . .", began Steve.

"You do know this isn't just a recommendation." warned Fanning.

Danny, looked sympathetically at his friend sitting next to him but not appearing smug was difficult. He knew Steve would protest his ongoing in-patient status as soon as he felt a little better after the transfusion. Steve returned his look with one of frustration.

When the detective raised his eyebrows as though expecting further protest, Steve didn't say anything but just blew a sharp breath through his nose and turned his attention back toward the doctors standing in front of a whiteboard affixed to the conference room wall.

Beside feeling nearly powerless over his own fate, he now felt as though he was once again a kid in a classroom.

"This," said Fanning as he drew a figure on the whiteboard, "is a healthy level of red blood cells." He wrote the world 'Healthy' over the number then next to it as a header over a column beside the first wrote the word 'You' and underlined it. "And this, is your RBC." The number he wrote under the second heading was significantly lower than the one next it.

 _That doesn't look good._ thought the detective though he remained silent.

"This," said Fanning again as he drew another figure under the column labeled 'Healthy' "is a normal white cell count for someone of your age and level of physical fitness. And this is yours." He drew another number under the second header. Again, it's significantly lower than the one next to it.

"Shit." murmured Danny as Shan nodded his head in agreement.

"And this," said Fanning with a tone of finality as he wrote the number, "a count of 50,000, is the minimum level of platelets required to prevent excessive bleeding if injured." He then wrote 10,000 directly next to it but between rather than under either of the headings. "Anything less than this," said Fanning, tapping at the number with the tip of the marking pen for emphasis, would have serious consequences."

"So, what's mine then?" asked Steve, though he's probably going to regret asking.

"According to your latest blood stats, this is where your platelets are right now and, without the augmentative infusion of platelets you've already been receiving, it would be much lower." The final number written under the 'You' heading is startlingly lower than the one deemed _minimum_ and much closer to the one Fanning had called _critical_.

Danny again said nothing but drew his lips in as he frowned at the number as though it personally offended him.

After a long minute of quietly considering the statistics, Steve asked, "What happens when it drops below the absolute minimum?"

"There could be spontaneous bleeding without even any external reason for it. It could trigger a brain hemorrhage, various types of internal bleeding . . . the outcome would most likely be fatal." bluntly stated Shan.

This time Danny spoke up, "I read about a drug called cyclosporine that's used to treat aplastic anemia. Why didn't you start him on that?" He too had done some research.

"Cyclosporine _is_ one of the drugs used in the treatment of aplastic anemia. It's usually used in combination with another drug with an even longer name that we just call ATG. Unfortunately, it's very toxic to the patient's kidneys." answered Fanning

Shan added, "The commander's renal function is in a precarious position right now. In my estimation the use of the aforementioned drugs would cause damage resulting in the need for ongoing hemodialysis."

"We've laid out the information. Now it's up to you to make the decision." said Fanning. "You can take the chance that the new drug will work or you can chose what would be the safer option of going with dialysis."

"Well, I guess that answers it then." grinned Steve, looking as though he hadn't made a decision that could lead to his death, "When do we start the new drug?"

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Please let me know if the medical stuff made sense. If it wasn't understandable I'll try to rewrite it. Next chapter is about a third of the way complete. I hope to update within a week. In the meantime, reviews and comments are welcome.**


	24. Balls

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 24

 **This one's almost on time. Thank you so much for your continuing support by reading, reviewing, commenting on and following this story. I love reading your suggestions and have incorporated many of them into this story as well as making notes for future outings.**

 **SPNGran has been invaluable in helping sort through the chaos in my head so that what goes on virtual paper actually may make some sense. Imaginary Beta did the final proof of this chapter and we, of course, know what to expect. I went back to fix many of the errors that got by her on the previous chapter and changed a bit of the wording to make it flow better. Nothing drastic but it's fixed now.**

 **NOTE: To those of you who don't care for naughty words, you may want to cover your ears as you read this one.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't get paid for this and therefore can't afford cooking lessons. Perhaps I'm lucky that both husband and not-so-ninja cat think the sound of a can opener heralds a gourmet meal.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Balls

Junichi sourly regarded his companion. They'd chased the gaijin for blocks and were almost upon him when the fool tripped over a yapping rodent some people might call a dog. Its leash, which had wound around one of his ankles, was attached to an old woman on the other end. She became angry and/or frightened and screeched loudly. Then, as her dog gnawed on Hisao's ankle, she began frantically hitting the oaf with her umbrella. In defending himself from the woman as well as the rodent, Hisao had let the thief get away. The man is useless.

 _An old lady! A dog no bigger than a rat!_ There's no way they could tell Mr. Nozaki how the thief had managed to elude them - again. Firstly, it was embarrassing. Secondly, they'd be killed for their incompetence. Their Oyabun isn't going to wait forever for them to correct their error of letting the thief escape at the harbor. Considering this latest failure; Junichi had decided that if Mr. Nozaki wasn't made aware that the clever gaijin had once again eluded capture – then what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, (or his employees).

His eyes swept the area around the Walmart parking lot as rain poured down, making people run from their cars to the store's entrance. Most of the simpletons had no umbrellas . . . well, except for that one woman. He snorted in disgust as he again pondered his partner's idiocy.

He hoped the thief had remained in the area though he had no idea why someone who dressed so well would hang around here. Surrounding the popular discount store were various rundown shops and businesses, among them a couple of second-hand stores and a homeless shelter. Perhaps it's just to confuse his pursuers. He's probably got his own spies keeping him from being caught. Why else would he have gotten away from them at the hotel? He'd obviously had warning they were coming. These conspirators of the gaijin are, no doubt, the ones helping him to hide.

Frowning at the rain splatting noisily on the windshield, Junichi once again thought the weather here is much too unpredictable while the people are too predictably infuriating. They appear to have no allegiance to anyone and seem to defy those in authority just to amuse themselves. How could they function efficiently without obedience? _They can't_ , thinks Junichi as he observes the motley assortment of people making their way across the flooded parking lot. They know nothing of self-discipline. This is evidenced by their sloppy dress and large waistlines.

 _It will be good_ _to get this over with and get back to_ _Osaka,_ thought Hisao; still rankled by the dressing down given by his partner for allowing himself to be distracted and letting the thief escape. _That old woman and her horrible animal should be killed!_ It's too bad he couldn't do it himself but his clan's code wouldn't allow the killing of defenseless elderly people. _However, it said nothing about dogs!_ thought the henchman as he tried to ignore his still smarting ankle – the one with a row of little teeth marks in it.

It will be good to get back home where people show proper respect and know their places and what is expected of them. Life here is much too chaotic and uncertain. What is certain is their happily anticipated trip home will be happening shortly. As soon as Martin Shaftbottom is dead.

…

The infusion room was designed to be as soothing as possible with muted colors and a cozy non-threatening atmosphere. Comfy looking recliners were set along both sides of the room and a coordinating fabric curtain that could be drawn closed for privacy hung between each of them. One wall consisted of floor to ceiling windows with the chairs turned toward them so that one could look out onto a pleasant vista that ended at the blue ribbon of ocean in the relative near distance. Flat-screen televisions were mounted so that the occupants of each chair could catch up on the news or a re-run of the Housewives of Wherever. It was lovely. The only jarring notes were the stainless steel IV stands beside each chair and the standard medicinal smell of a hospital. Somebody needs to light some aromatherapy candles.

Steve extended his left arm and rested it on the small platform that folded out from the side of the chair. Earlier, the talented Nurse Julian had once again been called upon; this time to install a 'peripherally inserted central catheter' aka a picc line; a thin tube that had been threaded through a vein leading to his heart. With it, one could deliver medication and draw blood without having to resort to multiple sticks and risk even more damage to already fragile blood vessels. This one started high up on the inside of his arm.

A sandy-haired nurse he'd never seen before gave him a warm smile then laid out the things in readiness to begin the treatment. McGarrett watched as Fanning himself, sitting on a stool beside him, swabbed one of the three ports at the end of the picc line. The hematologist paused only long enough to determine that all is as it should be before inserting the needle attached to a syringe that appeared to be the size of a turkey baster – at least to the guy receiving its contents. The doctor slowly pushed in the plunger to dispense the drug that may give his patient a shot at maintaining an active and unencumbered lifestyle or allow him to die.

Steve had been warned that there could be a burning sensation but, so far, he felt only a vague coolness as the drug entered his bloodstream. What is apparently inevitable is the eventual 'discomfort' all of the other patients who'd been given this drug had experienced. Dr. Shan sat looking on from a chair a few feet away. For this initial dose, both doctors wanted to be able to observe any possible negative effects; Shan in the interest of his drug study, Fanning in the interest of his patient.

"Steve, at least for this first time, there may not be any burning sensation but after several infusions, your nerves will become sensitized to the drug and may react to it. It can range from mild discomfort to actual pain." warned Fanning.

"You may not think so, but I actually paid attention during class." smiled Steve at the physician. "I also know about the muscle aches and all the other possible side effects. Don't worry, you've been very thorough with your explanations of what may happen."

"This time, we've diluted the drug with saline so that it may not be as irritating to your veins. It's kind of a tossup though. The diluted drug can take longer to infuse, thus increasing the time it remains in contact with your blood vessels while the undiluted drug passes through more quickly but can be much more caustic."

"Six of one – half dozen of the other." agreed Shan with a shrug.

"So, will it be diluted next time?" asked Steve as the plunger on the turkey baster slowly depressed toward empty.

"We'll see how this goes." replied the hematologist. "If you don't have much of a reaction, we'll dilute it again next time. Once you reach the point where it is affecting your nerves, we'll likely just go for it and leave it undiluted to get this over with more quickly."

"Where's Detective Williams today?" asked Fanning conversationally as he continued to push on the plunger, making sure every drop of the medication was dispensed.

"He actually has work to do." replied Steve, "but I'm sure he'd rather be here making sure I don't try to make a break for it or something."

"I suspect he'd rather be here to observe and 'comment' on the procedure. I'm sure he'd have an opinion on it. He seems to have an opinion on pretty much everything." chuckled Fanning.

"Sounds like you don't like my own personal guard dog watching your every move." smiled Steve.

"That guy's annoying." pronounced Shan from where he sat a couple feet away.

"No more so that you, Lloyd." shot back Fanning over his shoulder.

 _Jeeze,_ thought Steve, _they sound familiar somehow._

…

Danny wasn't particularly thrilled with the location of his meeting with the Oyabun. He'd much prefer to question the guy at HQ but, without having any evidence, they couldn't arrest him and park his ass in the blue room. They could only 'ask' if he would be so kind as to meet with 5-0. Of course Steve would have found another way to go about getting answers but he isn't Steve. He doesn't have the chutzpah/arrogance/balls to just trample on the Fourth Amendment despite their suspect being a Yakuza overlord.

The restaurant was dimly lit – and expensive. The detective had arrived early to scope out the place. No doubt Nozaki had his own people checking to make sure their boss was safe. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up. He could feel their eyes on him. Hell, there could be an army of them out there at the edges of the room. The place is so dark it's a wonder the waitstaff could find their way from the kitchen to the tables without a guide dog.

The maitre'd had eyed him suspiciously when he'd arrived; taking in the attire of a working detective - well, the attire of a working detective in New Jersey. Hey, he's wearing his best tie. If they didn't like it they could friggin' lump it.

After another ten minutes in which he'd waved away the over-solicitous waiter at least three times, (a glass of house wine here costs as much as a couple cases of Longboards), the man himself entered.

Mr. Nozaki, attired in a surprisingly casual silk shirt and without a jacket strolled in as though he owned the place – he very probably did. The men with him immediately flanked each side of his chair and stood at what Steve would call parade rest. Impressive.

Nozaki seated himself; nodding politely at the blonde man on the other side of the table. Danny nodded back.

"So, I am told you are wondering if I am an art thief." smiled Nozaki with all the warmth of an Arctic night.

The flame of the candle reflected off the obsidian surface of the Oyabun's eyes, making them appear as though the man was lit by flame from within like the devil himself. If Detective Daniel Williams wasn't such a badass, Jersey born and bred, veteran cop of many years, partnered with someone who thought armed combat was just another day at the office, he'd have shivered.

"And I'm told you may know where an eight-million dollar painting may be." answered Danny

"Which painting is that?" asked Nozaki just to see if the little blonde man actually knew anything about art.

"One by Gustav Klimt."

"Which one?"

Danny knew he was being toyed with but he was prepared, "Lady with Fan."

"Which one? There are several."

"Version Two."

"Oh, that one." smiled Nozaki without offering anything further.

"Yeah, that one." confirmed Danny.

"No, I don't know where it is but I wish I owned it. It's quite beautiful." said Nozaki who, with a minute gesture, summoned their waiter who almost immediately appeared with a glass of red wine.

"May I offer you some wine?" politely offered the Yakuza leader.

"No, thank you. Still on duty." answered the detective equally as polite.

"So, I gather your organization is the one keeping my ships from leaving the harbor?" asked Nozaki before he turned to murmur something in Japanese to the waiter who continued to hover next to the table. The man immediately dashed off to do his bidding.

"We've put a hold on all outbound shipments." answered Danny as he picked up the glass of ice water sitting before him; the lemon slice floating among the ice cubes having made it look much too enticing.

They danced verbally around one another for several more minutes before Danny said, "Well, it's been fun but I've got other criminals to talk to." He stood, bowed in a mockingly polite way, and turned to leave. He could almost feel the flames at his back as he walked from darkness toward light and out the exit.

….

It started about half an hour later. Fanning and Shan had been satisfied that nothing dire was going to occur immediately so both had gone about their business after instructing him to tell the on-duty nurse to notify them if there were any changes in the way he was feeling. What began as a slight twinge in his right thigh progressed until every muscle in his body felt as though it had been being tied into a tight knot.

Tina had been in to check on him twice in the half hour since he'd arrived back at his room and was scheduled for another check any moment. Shakily pushing the button that would lower the bed to a full recline, he groaned and curled on his side. It felt like the worst case of flu he'd ever had. His doctors had the balls to call this 'discomfort'? He's going to have to have a talk with them. Their future guinea pigs deserve a stronger disclaimer.

When Tina came into the room, she found him shivering in pain. His temperature had risen drastically and he'd sweated through the hospital gown he'd only reluctantly donned before returning to his bed after having been attired in a T-shirt and sweat pants for his trip to the infusion room.

The silenced monitors beside the bed blinked frantically, indicating something was out of normal range.

"Oh, honey." she clucked sympathetically then immediately picked up the ear thermometer to take his temperature. Noting the readout, she entered the numbers into her tablet along with other stats displayed on the monitors as she told him, "You are running a little hot. I'm going to call Dr. Fanning. He wanted to be notified of any sort of change."

Steve only groaned an unintelligible response and curled tighter beneath the light blanket.

"The doctor will probably prescribe something to bring that fever down and an analgesic for your discomfort."

"Nah, just shoot me." he groaned.

"No, I already promised the little blonde man that _he_ could do that, sweetie." replied Tina. Turning to leave the room she said, "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

"You're really hilarious." he groaned.

Several minutes later, she came back to hang a bag of clear fluid on the stand then piggybacked another smaller one and connected them to one of the ports of the picc line. "There's not a lot of meds we can give you right now because so many of them might mess with the effectiveness of that new drug." she apologized, "I'm hooking you up with a little saline to keep you hydrated and you're getting another round of antibiotics. Then she pulled a syringe from her pocket and popped the cap off the needle. "This will make you more comfortable."

"What is it?" he asked as he felt the sheet being pulled away from his backside and the gown pushed out of the way before the cold swipe of an alcohol swab followed by the sting of an injection.

"We're going to start with the safest one, it's injectable acetaminophen."

"Tylenol?"

"Yup. It will help with the fever and, hopefully, make you a little more comfortable. If it doesn't, we'll go for something stronger. We've got to be conservative because, besides not wanting to interfere with your drug therapy, we're being really careful with your kidneys."

After dropping the used syringe into the sharps disposal container mounted on the wall she asked, "You want to try eating something?" though she knew what his answer would be.

"What do you think." he huffed.

"If you don't start eating, the doctor is gonna put you on TPN." she warned.

In answer to her threat of infusing yet another liquid; this one designed to meet the nutritional needs of patients who, for whatever reasons, are not able to ingest food by mouth, he replied, "Just hook it up with the rest of the stuff. You're already dumping the entire pharmacy into my bloodstream."

"It's a little early for drama isn't it?" she clucked in mock sympathy.

"Smartass." he replied.

…..

It started with raised voices on the other side of the room. Most of the diners didn't even pause in their attack on their food.

"Hey motherfucker! Give me back my toast!"

"You're already fat as a pig. You don't need toast!" replied another male voice.

"It doesn't matter what I look like, asshole. It's **my** toast!"

"Yah know, your mother musta screwed an elephant and you're what popped out nine months later!"

"Don't you dare talk about my mother! Give it back or I'll get my friends to kick your ass and get it back from you! They don't like people like you."

"What? Sane people? You gonna call your little friends from outer space? The ones that you talk to all the time? Bring 'em on! I'd love to kick some imaginary Martian ass!"

What did make everyone look up was the sound of trays and chairs being thrown and tables being overturned. Plates of food splatted onto the floor as fellow diners protested the rude interruption of what may be their only meal of the day.

It went downhill from there. Apparently it was pro-aliens versus anti-aliens – no, not those kinds of aliens. It wasn't a Donald Trump rally.

Someone called the cops.

After that, it was only a matter of time before an enterprising person with a cell phone and a yen to be the next winner of a Pulitzer for photojournalism spotted the tall blonde man shielding three children and their frightened mother from the melee while an ancient crone and a toothless guy in a ball cap cheered on the battle.

News at noon: "Fight breaks out at homeless shelter. Exclusive video of this morning's downtown Honolulu riot."

That is how one Martin Shaftbottom became a hero . . . a _very_ reluctant hero.

…..

The henchmen had called a break. Searching for missing thieves is hungry work. _At least the roof isn't leaking_. Sourly thought Junichi as he and his companion sat in the shelter of a seedy bar near the Walmart they'd been staking out.

The place was fairly lively and people railed loudly at the television over the bar as a local sportscaster read out the latest sports scores and showed clips of sports usually involving different types of balls.

 _Of course, the only legitimate American sport_ , thought Junichi, _is baseball but the season hasn't yet begun._

On the brightly lit screen, large men wearing helmets and shoulder pads were being pursued by even larger men wearing helmets and even bulkier padding. With every charge at each other ending in what appeared to be a brawl, they battled for possession of an oddly shaped ball. It seems the goal of the game is to bury one another under a pile of bodies with the ball ending up at the bottom. American sports are strange thought Hisao.

Junichi sat sipping his Sapporo draft while Hisao sucked down a Miller Light, (something else to hold against him), as they munched on spam musubi. Junichi had protested loudly when his companion had suggested what must surely be an abomination. But now that he'd tried it, the stuff isn't so bad. Of course he'd never admit it to his partner.

Glancing up at the screen, the henchman's eyes lit on another kind of brawl. This one seeming to involve many people who lacked uniforms and helmets. The video, obviously captured by someone using a cell-phone, showed two groups of people throwing chairs and engaged in various fistfights and wrestling matches while slipping around on a floor coated in food.

Then,in living color on the sixty-inch Sony flat-screen, suddenly appeared the image of their missing Gaijin.

With a curse, Kunichi slapped the musubi out of his partner's hand and hurriedly dropped money on the table. In frantic haste, he pulled his co-enforcer out the exit onto the street and toward the homeless shelter a block away.

…..

"Danny!" said Kono, looking almost breathless as she rushed up to him as soon as he entered the office.

"What's up?" asked the detective. It must be something important to cause Kalakaua to look so excited.

"We just got a call from Duke. He said there's a guy who came up to some uniforms breaking up a brawl at a homeless shelter who said he's looking for protection from the Yakuza."

"Could be just another wacko. There was that guy last month who insisted the Menehunes were after him." replied Danny, referring to the mythical beings he'd learned were the Hawaiian version of leprechauns.

"Danny! He says his name is Martin _Shaftbottom_!" said the island woman, drawing out the man's surname.

"You're friggin' kidding me!" declared her temporary boss as he immediately turned to jog toward the exit, Kono hot on his heels.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Have totally given up on the 'heaving bosom' idea. Again, not a romance writer and couldn't come up with anything that didn't sound like a parody. There will be another reunion coming up in a future chapter. I'm sure you'll have your theories as to who may be making an appearance. In the meantime, your comments would be much appreciated.**


	25. Can't We All Just Get Along?

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 25

 **The case is on its way toward resolution as Steve is only at the beginning of his journey into the unknown. I know that there's an amazing coincidence in this chapter but, hey, it could happen! The term 'deus ex machina'* comes to mind.**

 **SPNGran is pleased, (and surprised), that I actually followed what we'd outlined for this update. Imaginary beta, with the help of her good friend spell-check, proofed the final version so any remaining errors are theirs.**

 **Disclaimer: No money was made from this so budget kibble is going to be on the menu for both husband and Not-So-Ninja cat until payday. Coffee, on the other hand, is non-negotiable.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Can't We All Just Get Along?

HPD is still sorting out the mess. So far, they'd let most of them go but still had several more, himself included, to grill. Ambulances had come and gone; hauling away the less fortunate of the many combatants. It didn't appear as though anyone had been seriously hurt; the worst of the injuries involved maybe a broken arm or sprained wrist when someone had slipped on the greasy mess covering the floor.

Why he'd been foolish enough to protect that woman and her kids he had no idea. He supposed it was some sort of primitive instinct that had kicked in. _How inopportune._ Those idiots with cell phones had apparently captured this brave and shining, (and rare), moment on video then sent it to a local TV station. Within the hour it was time for the noontime newscasts and his face was plastered on nearly every television screen on the island as well as being all over the internet. Several of his new 'pals' in the rubble strewn dining hall had pointed out his image on the TV at the end of the room. Despite its snowy picture, he was easily recognizable. _Wonderful._ Now Nozaki would know exactly where to find him. It was only a matter of time.

Taking a deep breath, he'd approached one of the uniformed men who was apparently expected to quell any flareups of hostility by appearing intimidating. It might have worked but the guy looked no older than fifteen, still had acne, and was not the most strapping example of manliness. A good gust of wind could have easily blown him off his feet. He almost felt like asking the badge wearing kid if his momma knows he's here amidst the flotsam and jetsam of Honolulu. Surely she wouldn't approve. Rather than voicing his opinion of children posing as cops, Martin approached the officer to explain his predicament—Japanese thugs wanted him dead.

Okay, so looking at it from their side, he could see why they didn't believe him. Here's a guy appearing as one of the great unwashed, a participant in an 'aliens vs earth' battle, who says he needs protection from the Yakuza. He could almost see the reaction when the kiddie-cop related the odd request to his superiors. Still, the young officer had tried; looking almost apologetic when he'd returned to relay the message from his sergeant – 'We'll get to you soon enough. Just shut-up and wait'.

He'd almost missed them; distracted when one of the little brats, (possibly now imprinted on him like a newly hatched duckling), grabbed onto his pant leg with a greasy hand. At the edge of those milling just outside the double doors opened onto the street were two darkly attired men; the ones who'd tried to off him at the harbor. They'd spotted him as well. Like the old chestnut about 'eyes meeting across a crowded room', theirs locked onto his in recognition.

Looking to the long line of those still awaiting questioning, Martin frantically assessed his chances of remaining among the living. Just then, a member of the pro-alien forces attempted to resume battle by launching a soggy plate of Spam at a warrior of the marginally more earthbound. Soon, folding chairs were once again wielded like avenging weapons of the righteous and it was all the cops could do to get control over the renewed hostilities. Once again, pandemonium reigned.

The Yakuza gunmen, taking advantage of the distraction, slipped into the room and headed toward him like lions hoping to make a meal of an antelope culled from the herd. _Stay or run?_ thought Martin as he took one more glance toward hoped for protection and saw that every cop in the room was now engaged in crowd control.

He made his decision. _RUN!_

With the two henchmen boldly dashing across the expanse of the dining hall, Martin pried himself from the kid's grasp, pushed him toward his mother, then spun around to rush toward the exit behind him. Quickly reaching the metal door, he lunged against the panic bar, (aptly named), and exploded into the alleyway behind the building.

Junichi and Hisao, several steps behind him, scrambled out the doorway in time to see their prey disappear through an opening between buildings a few feet away - the narrow passageway most likely leading to the next street over.

The chase is on.

….…

The muscle cramps were finally beginning to lessen and he was feeling not quite so miserable when he heard a discreet knock and the door swung slowly inward. A large shiny dome appeared through the opening, a smiling face below it.

"Hey, Commander Chaos" greeted Lou Grover as he pushed the door open wider. Turning to someone behind him, he said, "It's okay, he's decent . . . well, as decent as he ever was."

Lori Weston followed the big man into the room, both visitors coming to stand beside his bed. The profiler, shocked by his bruised and pale appearance, barely managed to stop herself from exclaiming, _What the hell?!_ Taking a deep breath, she smiled and said instead, "It's good to see you, Steve." She hoped her expression hadn't given her away. The guy looked like crap.

Grover, of course, had no such qualms. "Now, I know you haven't left the hospital, so why do you look like you've gone ten rounds in a cage fight?" asked the big man.

"An MMA fight has only three rounds, Lou; five if it's a championship." corrected Steve as he pushed the button to bring the bed to a more upright position. Despite the not so subtle inspection and subsequent reactions to their findings, he was glad to see the two. At least he was dressed in a T-shirt and sweats again. He really didn't like receiving guests while wearing a see-though hospital gown.

"Maybe that's a good thing then. Any more rounds and he'd o' beat the pretty right off you." said Grover.

"You shoulda seen the other guy." replied Steve.

"Umm humm." responded the big man who promptly plopped himself onto the edge of the bed while the man laying on it moved his legs aside. "I'm sure he must look really exhausted from swinging that big bat he used to beat the crap outta you."

"It's not what it looks like." he replied, not able to hide an amused grin.

"Did you run into a door? Maybe more than once?" asked Lori with a smile of her own though her friend's appearance wasn't in the least amusing.

"You too, Weston?" mock accused Steve with a scowl.

The profiler just shrugged as she held out a grease stained bakery bag that smelled suspiciously like cinnamon malasadas. Though there's no way he could eat the fried treats, he took it with a nod of thanks and set it on the nightstand, 'for later'.

Wanting to draw away attention from his obviously unwell appearance and to avoid ongoing comments, he asked, "So, how goes it with the art theft? You guys get the stuff back yet?"

"Nah, but we're getting close." answered Grover, "Agent Weston and I are on the way back from questioning some of the dock workers that load boats bound for international ports – specifically Japan's in this case."

"You get anything?" asked Steve as he cautiously tugged on the IV line that had caught on the bed rail when he'd scooted over. It didn't hurt but it felt kind of weird to feel a pulling sensation in his chest so far away from where it entered the skin on his arm. Grover, as though it was an everyday occurrence, leaned forward and finished untangling the line for him. Satisfied it was where it should be, he sat back again and answered the question.

"Looks like our Yakuza friend owns at least a couple of the boats docked at the harbor right now. We've got everyone but the Girl Scouts searching through them."

"We're also checking every container waiting to be loaded." added Lori.

Nodding, Steve reached toward the cup of water on the tray next to him. His throat was still sore from all the ralphing he'd done yesterday. If he wanted to avoid coughing his way through the discussion, he'd have to sooth it. Also, it wouldn't take much to start his nose bleeding again even with the preventive clotting factor administered this morning. Fanning said it would screw with the stats and Dr. Shan wouldn't much like it but he needed it to keep him sound enough to continue the drug study.

Lori asked, "You want some ice in that?"

"Yeah, thanks." he answered as he held out the cup toward her trying not to appear as shaky as he felt.

She took it and crossed the room to take the pink plastic pitcher from the counter against the wall just inside the door. After carefully pouring some half-melted cubes into the cup she returned to his bedside to hand it back to him.

Though he'd tried to hide it, the observant profiler had noticed the slight tremor of his hands. Her former boss also appeared thinner than he had even a couple of days ago; his eyes more sunken, his cheeks more hollow.

"You'll find them." he said confidently as he sipped the cool water; hazel blue eyes smiling over the rim of the cup.

"Yeah, we've only got, I dunno, maybe about a million more containers to check." responded Lou with a disheartened sigh.

"You've been hanging out with Danny too much. That sunny personality has rubbed off on you." chuckled Steve. "Speaking of; how is our feisty bundle of joy and optimism? He'd called earlier to say he couldn't be here because he had a meeting with the Oyabun. How did it go? He okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry, we were watching over him. We had a couple plainclothes from HPD pose as customers in the restaurant where the meet was being held. Our detective called to say that Nozaki was being cagey. He's definitely involved. All in all though, nothing much was learned but the good guys got to enjoy some expensive appetizers on the state's tab."

"We just have to come up with something more concrete before we can board the ship." said Agent Weston. "Pissing off the Japanese Shipping Association is probably not a good idea."

"They did say though that if we came up with something solid enough, they had no problem with the investigation and would cooperate completely." said the tall black man.

"That's good. Sounds like you guys are handling it." nodded Steve though not without a pang of frustration that he couldn't be in the middle of it all. This sitting on the sidelines stuff while everyone else did the work sucks.

"So, how goes the treatment?" asked Lori.

"Not bad." I had the initial dose this morning. Like they'd told me, it could cause aches and chills like having the flu but it's not too serious. I'm feeling a lot better than this morning and should be fine by tonight. Just kinda got a little bit of a headache right now." He neglected to tell his visitors that the side-effects would most likely grow worse with each consecutive treatment.

…..

As Danny drove, Kono studied the image on her cell phone. Chin had just sent her a photo from the Interpol database. It was a surveillance shot of a guy named Martin Shaftbottom - a suspect in several jewel and art thefts. Still staring at it, her seat-belt suddenly tightened and jerked against her to prevent any continued momentum as Danny stood on the brake and the Camaro skid to a halt; tires barely finding traction on the wet pavement.

Looking up, she saw they'd barely missed flattening a man who'd dashed in front of their car as two guys in dark clothing popped out from between two buildings next to them and, like the hounds of Hell, ran after him.

"Danny! That's Shaftbottom!" yelled Kono as she popped open her door and launched herself out of the car. Slamming its gear into park, the detective abandoned the vehicle in the middle of the street to join in.

Somehow by miraculous happenstance, they'd turned the corner onto Waimanu Street just as the man they were seeking suddenly appeared right before them.

Martin, learning that flip-flops aren't necessarily the best footwear for running, kicked them off to splash barefoot along the sidewalk. His youthful experience eluding those who meant him harm once again came in handy. The chase continued as he wove between pedestrians and obstacles as though he were a ghost, his pursuers barreling along in his wake.

"I'll cut them off!" yelled Kono as she peeled off the chase and ducked down a side alley, her gun in hand.

 _Way too much like Steve._ Thought Danny, (not for the first time), as the island girl disappeared on her mission while he continued the foot race in a more linear fashion. When the three men ahead of him reached the end of the block, they turned left, (there was no other direction to go), to disappear around the corner of an auto parts store.

"HALT! FIVE-0!" heard Danny just before the two guys in black came skidding around the building to come rocketing back in his direction.

Echoing the unseen Kono, the detective yelled, "HALT! FIVE-0!" and with Sig raised slid to a stop and fluidly dropped to a crouched shooter's stance. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"

Hisao, immediately halted in his tracks, which caused Junichi, not having time to stop his forward momentum, to slam into him from behind. With grunts of surprise, both men tumbled end-over-kettle; guns knocked out of their hands by the impact to go skittering across the concrete. Looking up from where they lay sprawled on the wet ground, Junichi, blinking rain from his eyes, saw a smiling blonde man with a gun looking down at them.

To say the least, this is not working out to be a good day for Mr. Nozaki's employees. Five-0's blue room would have to be utilized in shifts.

…

"So, what did cause the bruising under your eyes?" asked Grover curiously.

"Oh, this?" said Steve gesturing toward his face, "My nurse may look harmless but don't let that fool you. She packs quite a wallop."

As luck would have it, Tina came in right at that moment to see if the latest antibiotic infusion was complete. Overhearing her patient's reply she said with a snort, "Believe me. If your friend here hadn't started behaving himself, I woulda belted him harder."

"I've no doubt." smiled Grover at the large woman who set down a cup of ice cream on the tray next to the bed then, reaching up, pulled an empty bag off the hanger above it. Efficiently detaching it from the port of the picc line, she coiled the tubing and gathered up any related paraphernalia for disposal.

"That'll hold you for now, honey. Don't let your little friends here tire you out. You need all the rest you can get for the next couple days." The big woman patted him on the shoulder then left the room, giving both Grover and Weston a 'look' as she passed them.

"Phew." said Lou, "I wouldn't want to be on her bad side."

"Yeah, she's pretty tough . . . and she's got needles." chuckled McGarrett.

"Yeah, well with you as a patient, she needs to be badass." said Grover right before his phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket to look at the screen. "'Scuse me." he said as he stood and walked a few feet away to answer it.

Lori took the opportunity to come closer to the bed and ask, "So, what caused the shiners? How do you really feel?" Her delicate features reflected her concern.

Hesitating only briefly, Steve answered truthfully, "Well, I spent most of yesterday tossing my cookies, managed to break some capillaries under my eyes and start my nose bleeding again. Then, this morning I started the treatment which caused probably every muscle in my body to cramp-up and I probably sweated off ten pounds but, all-in-all, not too bad."

Lori smiled wanly and replied, "Yeah, sounds like a stroll in the park." Then, smile broadening she said, "But I promise we won't say anything to Danny. We don't want him stroking out from worry and you'd only get a lecture though it certainly wasn't anything you could control."

"Yeah, I really appreciate his concern, but sometimes the way he shows it kinda wears me out." he replied.

"Sorry to interrupt but it looks like we gotta blow this joint." said Grover, to the two grinning almost conspiratorially toward one another as he took quick steps to stand next to the bed. "Our possible art thief and two guys who were trying to kill him are lined up back at HQ. waiting for their turns in the blue room."

"No shit?" exclaimed McGarrett, bruised eyes widening at the news.

Lori's identical but slightly lagging, "No shit!?" made it sound like an echo of Steve's response.

"Yeah, the guy with the funny name and two Yakuza types got rounded up by Williams and Kalakaua a few minutes ago. We gotta go join the party."

Saying hasty goodbyes, Lou and Lori excused themselves to return to their 'normal' lives. Steve longingly watched them walk out the door, wondering if he'd be able to join them ever again.

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 ***A** **seemingly unsolvable problem suddenly and abruptly resolved by the inspired and unexpected intervention of some new event, character, ability or object.**

 **Much of the next chapter is already written so it may be ready to post by Wednesday but no promises. Really, really appreciate your support. Thanks so much for your responses to this story. Will be replying to comments on the previous chapter as soon as this is posted.**

 **IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

 **Note: T** **he title of this chapter is ironic considering the** **events** **of the past few days.** **May peace and comfort come** **to all those whose lives have been so tragically alter** **ed** **. I hope we can find a solution to violence.**

 **PS - I don't usually do this, but in reply to someone who commented under the name Notme just a few minutes ago, I have to clarify the above. I should have extended the time frame to the last several years, not just the past few days. What I truly mean is can't we ALL just get along. Not just people here in this country but world over. That we feel it necessary to force our views on one another by using violence, either physical or verbal, is just WRONG. Next time, Notme, please allow me to contact you directly. The world needs more communication, not less.**


	26. Crumbs

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 26

 **Once again underestimated** **how long it would take to finish** **a** **chapter.** **G** **uess it's possible to be at once over-confident and lacking in confidence all together. I apologize for not being able to live up to my own PR.**

 **The case is perking along at a steady clip and Steve's** **at** **the edge of experiencing the heavy-duty side effects of the drug** **. Thank you for all of your comments, follows and favorites.** **Thanks again to SPNGran whose unenviable task it was to turn my ramblings into something a bit more coherent.**

 **D** **isclaimer: If I got paid for writing I'd fly to Hawaii so that I could, in person, express my feelings for a tall guy and a not so tall guy. You all have bail money, right?**

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Crumbs

"So, what's happening with Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum?" asked Lou Grover as he took a gulp of what had to be only lukewarm coffee. He and Lori had arrived a few minutes ago to find Danny, Kono, Chin, and Lori holding a congratulatory celebration of sodas and whatever they found in the vending machines downstairs. There were several empty packets of various kinds of snacks in the middle of the breakroom table. The only thing left uneaten appeared to be a bag of gummy bears.

"They're in a holding cell at HPD." answered Danny, "Duke's having someone keep a special eye on them as well as the guy they were chasing when we almost literally ran into him."

"Talk about dumb luck." nodded the ex-SWAT captain.

"For who?" asked Kono; a bit of indignation in her tone, "Him or us?"

"Well, both." smiled Grover, "Not that you and Williams are slouches in the detecting department, but it was kind of a 'right place, right time' thing. With that kinda luck, you guys outta go halfsies on a lotto ticket."

"I guess you've got a point." she smiled, deciding not to take offense. "I tried to get Steve to go in with me on a bunch of tickets last time the jackpot was really big but he didn't want to."

"He'd of lost his wallet anyway." snorted Danny before washing down a bite of a Snickers bar with a gulp of Diet Pepsi.

"Did they give up any information yet?" asked Lori frowning at her temporary boss's dichotomous choice of food and drink.

"What?" asked Danny as he noticed her look, "My daughter wants me to eat healthier."

"Oh, uh huh." nodded Lori in a powerful display of self-discipline. She didn't even crack a smile.

Said Chin, "The two gunmen don't seem to speak English and, despite the 'vast' linguistic skills gathered here in this room, none of us is fluent in Japanese."

"HPD has a couple of official translators we can use. They'll be here within a few minutes if we contact Duke." said Kono.

"I don't want anyone else in on this yet." responded Danny as his team looked at him quizzically. " _B_ _ecause_ , with interpreters around they're gonna clam-up even tighter and that would force us to use Rambo's interrogation techniques and, if we do, there's a chance that any case we might have will be thrown out."

"McGarrett's not even here." reminded Grover.

Chin added with a smirk, "I think Steve's ways have finally rubbed off on you, brah."

"Next thing we know, you're gonna start putting butter in your coffee and going all OCD over a mess like this." said Kono waving a hand at the table covered with the debris of their celebration.

Ignoring the comments, Danny continued, "Anyway, I doubt any Yakuza thugs are gonna crumble under questioning. They'd be killed by their own organization if they did."

"You're right." concurred Grover, leaning forward to pick a gummy bear from the packet on the table. The rubbery confection didn't go all that well with coffee but they were the only things left and he was hungry. "If they talk, these guys are gonna be like my mother-in-law's meatloaf . . . toast."

"I think we can solve a couple problems at once." said Danny

"A couple? As in more than one?" asked Lori, now eying the gummy bears as well. As evidenced by the empty wrapper in the middle of the table she was too late to score any Oreos. It was way past lunch and her stomach was growling fiercely. She assumed people would get the wrong idea if she licked the telltale chocolate crumbs off of Kono's tank top.

"We have the miracles of modern technology at our fingertips." answered Danny, popping the last of the candy bar into his mouth. It had probably been in the vending machine since the last ice age but hey, chocolate.

Chin nodded but said, "How does that help us if they're not going to talk anyway and, even if they did, no one speaks the language?"

"We're gonna to put the two into a room with the object of their murderous intent and let them stew for awhile." answered Danny, looking from one to the other of his teammates.

His brow wrinkling like a Sharpei's, Grover weighed-in, "Okay, I guess that would solve the traffic congestion at the blue room but where are you going with this?"

"Steve's got nothing but time right now. I know he's bored out of his skull and, like a hyperactive kid, he needs something to do before he gets into trouble. We've got a job for him. After Chin works his magic, Rambo can watch them from his hospital room. I didn't know until he went off to Japan looking for Wo Fat that the goof even spoke Japanese in addition to Mandarin and whatever else he's hiding from us.

"He _can_ surprise one at times." agreed Grover.

"Yeah, sometimes even in a _good_ way." said Danny, "By using his freaky linguistic skills he can interpret anything that slips out between the two goons when they meet up with Shaftbottom. Since they won't know we're watching and are able to understand what they're saying, they may let something slip."

"That actually sounds like it could work." said the profiler, "Surely they'll have something to say if we put Shaftbottom in the room with them like a sacrificial goat used to lure predators."

"Yeah. The two didn't seem like rocket scientists. If we leave them in there long enough we may learn something." agreed Kono.

"Could work." said Grover thoughtfully as he pursed his lips; unpursing them to pop a yellow gummy bear into his mouth. His entire face immediately puckered in reaction to the sourness he wasn't expecting.

"In any case, it'll give Rambo something to do while he's convalescing." replied Danny.

"He did seem a bit down when Lou and I went to visit him this morning." said Lori, "This could make him feel like he's contributing and maybe cheer him up a little."

"Sounds like a good plan in several ways." agreed Kono.

"Chin, go set up the feed so that we can get Steve in on this." said Danny. The Hawaiian silently nodded and left the room. He needed to gather the equipment necessary to set up a surveillance system invisible to their suspects. They'd never set one up in the interrogation room in the basement, aka 'the blue room'. A record of what went on in there could be problematic if viewed by anyone outside of Five-0. If the seriousness of the case warranted, the task force could sometimes tiptoe on the boundary of legality or have even been known to run roughshod over it. Out of necessity they'd employed the 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas' sort of concept for the blue room - there were no cameras.

"Okay, Lou, go fetch Thing Number One and Thing Number Two and stash them in that empty office. Try to look menacing while you're watching them so they don't try anything while we're waiting for everything to be set up. We're gonna let 'em marinate for a while before we spring the other guy on them."

" _Try_ to look menacing?" said Grover with a dismissive snort. At six-foot-five, he'd looked menacing since he was thirteen. Now that he'd perfected his scowl, he knew for a certainty that he is positively terrifying.

"Kono, after we're set-up, you go fetch our Mr. Shaftbottom from his holding cell. We don't want the other two to see him until we're ready. On this end, you're gonna get first watch with Steve. Despite my doubts the goof can stay still long enough to do this, he's got no choice right now so this may actually work."

"You got it, temporary boss. I won't even tell Steve what you said." With a dimpled smile, the Hawaiian woman strode off to check how long it would be until her cousin was done with his set-up. She walked out the door while brushing cookie crumbs from her chest.

Lori, without an assigned task, said, "I'll just, um, clean-up the breakroom." She wasn't sure if Danny trusted her as much as Steve had. Her feelings were a bit hurt to be left out of the loop.

"After that's done," said Danny as he stood to leave the room, "You get to keep Steve company for a while to see if he's really up to this. I know he's gonna say yes but you know he'd say that even if he's in the middle of having a limb hacked off. If you think what we're doing is going to interfere with his health, let me know and I'll pull the plug then we'll go with plan B."

"What's plan B?" she asked as she retrieved a plastic trash can and began to sweep everything left on the table and into it.

"Haven't the slightest friggin' idea." he responded. With that, Danny strode off to give Steve a call. Since he hadn't seen him since before his treatment, he needed to ask how he's doing as well as set-up the surveillance/translation op. He had no doubt Steve would be itching to be in on the action somehow. He wasn't kidding about keeping the guy busy to make sure he stays out of trouble. They'd been partners far too long for him not to know that a bored McGarrett is calamity waiting to happen.

…..

Martin glanced around the holding cell. There wasn't even a window in here. First he's homeless, now he's in the local bastille. Still, it might be a step up. At least he doesn't have to share his cell with a bunch of snotty kids and a guy who desperately needs a bath and the services of a dentist.

Another good thing, the most important thing in fact, is that he's still alive. He was beginning to have his doubts of remaining so considering that, at least twice now, he'd been at the business end of guns held by Yakuza assassins.

Though he was thankful to have been rescued, he still wasn't going to incriminate himself in any wrongdoing. He'd learned there had been fatalities involved in the crime. If convicted, he could be sent up for many, many, more years than was warranted for grand theft, no matter how valuable the stolen goods.

He wasn't willing to garner any extra time in prison because of the elimination of those two twits; neither had impressed him. The man at the convention center had been an uncouth lout who'd sneered at him when he'd declined to kneel down to inspect the closing mechanism of the door in the passageway between the two buildings. The floor of the tunnel hadn't been swept yet! Of course he wasn't going to ruin a new pair of Armani linen slacks! The man had nerve!

As far as Atwell the museum director: he'd seen the man in action and he must have been absolutely horrid to work for. It's a wonder his own employees didn't do him in.

So, no. There's no way he's going to do any extra time on their account. He'd find a way to get out of this somehow. As long as they didn't have the art or Nozaki himself, the authorities didn't have much of a case.

…

He picked up the ringing cell from the metal table in front of him. Tina had finally forked the device over. Before now, he'd been reliant on the hospital's land line. Having his own phone at least made it seem as though he had a piece of his life back.

"Hey D, howzit?" he greeted after seeing the goofy face on the screen. It was a photo forwarded to him by Gracie who'd snapped it when Danny had tried to make her laugh by making a face. She'd known it would become his cell's ID image for her dad. That kid's alright.

"How you doin' buddy?" asked Danny, not just to be polite. He really did want to know how Steve is feeling today.

"Not too bad. I heard they're giving us lime jello for dinner today; I've got something to live for." he said sourly.

"Well, maybe I've got something else that will cheer you up."

"What's that?" asked Steve.

"A job."

"Huh?"

"We need an invisible interpreter for the two Yakuza bozos we've got in custody. So far as we know, they speak only Japanese and we need you to watch them covertly so that you can translate whatever they might inadvertently spill."

"Why aren't you using HPD's people?" asked Steve feeling a strong spark of interest in the proposed op. He may actually be able to make himself useful.

"Well, I figure they'll pretty much clam-up and won't be cooperative in the least with official interpreters and, since you're not around to hang anyone off roofs or throw them in shark cages, we've got to be a little more creative."

"So, if I'm ' _interpreting'_ your request correctly," said Steve using invisible quotes as Danny rolled his eyes on the other end of the conversation, "You think they're going to let something slip if they think they're not being watched?"

"Yup. And we're going to up the ante by putting them in the blue room with that Shaftbottom guy they were trying to kill and see what comes of it."

"Sounds like a solid plan, D." said Steve with a smile his partner couldn't see, "Let's get this show on the road."

"Thought you'd like it." said Danny with his own smile at his partner's enthusiasm.

…..

Steve sat sipping his apple juice as he stared at his laptop, watching the three men glare at each other from where they'd been shackled to their chairs. So far, this was like the most boring reality show ever.

Danny had fastened the tall blonde guy to the chair. He'd seen that as soon as the door had closed when the detective walked out of the room, Shaftbottom realized he'd been abandoned and had frozen like a deer in the headlights. Eyes wide with fright, he sat staring back at the two Yakuza gunmen who leered menacingly back at him. So far, no one had uttered a word.

Today was actually a good day for this op. He'd had his first infusion this morning and after a couple of hours wasn't feeling all that bad. He knew that soon, the cumulative side-effects of the drug would increase. In what would be an unrelenting cycle, he'd have only one day out of every four when he didn't feel like total crap.

Like today, within an hour after the infusion, he could expect aching muscles and painful joints. His head would pound and his stomach would try to turn itself inside out at even the thought of food.

The next day wouldn't be as bad but exhaustion would leave him completely inert and he'd sleep through most of it.

By the third day he should be able to watch a little TV and maybe converse with whichever member of his ohana had shown up to visit.

By the fourth day, most of the leftover soreness would be gone and he could attempt to eat. On that day, he could probably actually appreciate his visitors.

Anyway, today is a good day for a couple of reasons: he had a job to do, he'd so far managed to keep down a cup of ice cream and a few sips of apple juice, and Lori was here to keep him company while he worked. Things are good.

…

"I told you we should have just gone back home!" hissed Hisao to Junichi who sat staring daggers at the gaijin sitting only a few feet before them.

"And I told you that if we did, our employer would have us killed. He doesn't like people who fail him." answered Junichi, disdain in his voice for the one who'd been a major pain in his ass from the moment they'd been paired together.

He'd heard rumors of the man's idiocy but now, he'd had to experience it firsthand. If Mr. Nozaki _doesn't_ have them killed it will indeed be a miracle. To add insult to injury here is the thief, only feet from them, and they have no way to complete their assignment. The gunman tested his shackles once again. They were tight and there was no way he could manage to slip out of them. That large black man had fastened them carefully then smiled at them. His smile was as menacing as his frown.

Hisao sighed loudly. There is no way out of this that he could see.. He'd understood some of the questions they'd asked; even if they were in English. If they didn't speak, they'd be here in this room until they died. If they did speak, they'd be dead anyway. Mr. Nozaki would see to it.

"This is your fault!" hissed Junichi to his coworker. "If you hadn't been such an idiot, we wouldn't be here in this room staring back at the man we were sent to kill!"

"It wasn't my fault that he escaped at the ship!" responded Hisao who certainly wasn't going to take sole blame for their fuckup.

"Look at him! He's as scared as a rabbit. I can't believe we failed in our assignment!" said Junichi.

Martin stared back at the two men conversing in Japanese. They certainly weren't happy to be here and, if looks could kill, he wouldn't be here either. He had no idea why they'd been dumped in this stupid room and tied to chairs facing one another. What was the point? His stomach tightened as two sets of dark eyes stared daggers at him. They'd been here for almost two hours. If he wasn't scared shitless, he'd be totally bored.

….

"Anything yet?" asked Lori as she sat sipping her tea while Steve stared at the screen of his laptop.

"Nope, they're just blaming each other for letting Shaftbottom escape. They don't seem to be too happy being partnered."

"Sounds familiar." she smiled

"Like who?" he asked without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Well, you and Danny do a lot of umm, bitching at one another."

Steve looked up surprised, "We don't bitch!" he replied.

"Oh, excuse me. Maybe I should have used the words squabble, quarrel or maybe bicker." she smiled.

"Shhh!" he said as, on the screen, the two gunmen began to berate the man sitting across from them.

"You!," said Junichi in his own language, "If it wasn't for you, I'd be home right now drinking beer and playing Dragon Quest!"

Martin, not speaking a word of Japanese, only stared blankly back at them. The two were certainly annoyed.

"It's your fault that Mr. Nozaki is even angry with us!" said the duller one.

The only word he understood was the name Nozaki. He wondered how this was going to sort itself out. Could the authorities prove that these two guys had anything to do with the deaths of the museum director and the workman? They'd been sitting here staring at each other for nearly two hours without anyone coming into the room to question them. Sooner or later, someone was going to have to pee or whatever. This could get even more uncomfortable.

"Come on." muttered Steve to himself. "You've confirmed the name, just give us the location."

Lori studied her friend as he sat bolt upright in bed, eyes fastened on the screen; both hands pressing against his earpieces. He looked better than he had earlier. Maybe it was just that he had something to occupy him. His eyes seemed brighter and his color was better. She did notice however how thin his hands had gotten. The bones on the backs of them much too visible, radiating out from his wrists like spokes on a wheel.

"We shall be stuck in this horrible country forever!" said Hisao.

"The American justice system won't allow us to remain in custody forever, just be patient . . . and shut up!" responded Junichi.

"No! It's this man's fault we're even locked up!" Hisao gestured toward the thief with his chin.

"You mean because he wouldn't stand still and let us kill him? Don't be an even bigger idiot than you are."

"The ship will leave without us." said Hisao dejectedly.

"Mr. Nozaki has many ships, the Kitakyushu Maru is only one of them. Don't be so negative."

"Bingo!." muttered Steve, "The fuckers finally gave us a name."

"They're going to find the paintings." said Hisao.

"They're hidden too well. No one would even think to look for a false ballast compartment. It's well hidden. Mr. Nozaki himself designed the ship."

"Kono, you there?" asked Steve, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Yeah, boss." he heard.

"The ship is the Kitakyushu Maru. There's a storage area built into the ballast tank. If the ship's riding low, it's probably under several feet of water right now. The paintings are in there. Our little friends also said that Nozaki is the one who actually designed the ship."

"Did they spill about the murders?" asked Kono.

"Not yet but they're not very good at hiding stuff. It probably won't be long."

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 **Note: To all of the broken hearted** **the world over who've been** **left to carry-on, I wish you peace and love.**


	27. It Won't Be Long

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 27

 **Here we go again. Many thanks to those who favorited, followed, commented or just read this story.**

 **SPNGran once again took a shot at organizing chaos. It's working out wonderfully, (for me anyway). She doesn't laugh at my obsession and it's amazing what the woman will put up with for coffee and a croissant.**

 **Disclaimer: It's difficult to explain to the uninitiated, (aka sane people), why time and effort is spent on something from which I've never made a penny. I guess all I can hope is that there's decent coffee at 'the home'.**

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It Won't Be Long

He had the feeling the jig was up. When they'd come to get the two Yakuza twits, that tall black cop was wearing a smirk and then had winked at him. That was not a good sign. Now, here he is in another windowless room. Well, at least the light in here isn't weirdly blue and, to his literal relief, there's a john. His teeth had been nearly floating by the time they'd finally taken him back to county jail. He used to think that happiness was maybe an expensive cognac and a Cuban cigar. Now he knows for certain that it's an empty bladder.

He'd missed lunch and probably even dinner. Even if it had been something barely recognizable as food, at least it would have been edible . . . maybe. Now he'd have to wait for tomorrow's breakfast. His cellmate, a large Samoan gentleman with numerous tattoos, was asleep on the top bunk. The man is gargantuan but it's mostly muscle. Martin eyed the construction of the double tiered bed; checking to see if it looked sturdy enough to hold its loudly snoring burden. He decided it was most likely safe to sleep in the bottom bunk but he certainly wouldn't sleep easy.

"Hey, Boss!" he heard a familiar voice from the cell across the way. He stared at the man grinning back at him through the bars. Eyes widening, he recognized his former employee.

"Bob?"

"Yeah, it's me." answered the man who, very like a puppy greeting its owner returning after being away for a day, looked overjoyed to see him. If the man had a tail it would be wagging furiously.

….

Danny pressed the button with the big number six on it that started the elevator on its upward journey. There was a melodic ding when it reached the designated floor and the door opened onto a corridor that had become much too familiar. He'd come to give Steve an update in person. Not that he needed an excuse for a visit but apparently, Steve had begun to stress over being the cause of worry and concern for his friends; a certain blonde detective in particular.

It was Lou who'd hinted that Five-0's resident mother-hen needed to take a break from the hovering and that maybe everyone, not just him, should back-off a little. He wondered if Steve had actually said anything or if Lou had just intuited it. The ex SWAT captain could be very insightful at times – when he wasn't being a smartass.

Okay, he could back off a little . . . maybe. Certainly, there were ways to keep tabs from a distance. He'd already called a couple times today when Nurse Tina was on duty to ask how her patient was doing. He'd learned that, so far, his friend had been cooperative; following doctor's orders without giving anyone a hard time. There'd been some negotiations regarding roaming the halls at all hours but, for the most part, it was all good said the nurse – well, as good as could be expected in this situation.

Stopping in front of room 602 he knocked softly, waiting only a second or two before pushing the door open and entering. Steve appeared to be sleeping. Lori rose quietly from the chair next to the bed and smiled, holding a finger in front of her lips to indicate they should keep their voices low. She stepped away from the sleeping man and closer to his latest visitor so they could converse quietly.

"Hi Danny. Steve just went under a few minutes ago. He looked pretty tired so maybe it would be best to let him sleep for awhile." she said.

"Yeah, no worries. I only came to give him an update on the case and to check on him. I'm sure you know how stubborn the blockhead is about taking care of himself sometimes and I wanted to see how he's doin'."

"The blockhead is doing just fine." they heard from the bed.

Lori rolled her eyes and turned toward Steve who blinked sleepily as he sat up, rubbed his eyes, then drew his legs toward him to sit cross-legged on the bed.

Earlier, Lori had helped him put the compression covering on his arm. It was to keep his IV port from getting wet. So now, freshly showered, shaved and dressed, he didn't look too bad – if you ignored the bluish hollows under his eyes and the ever increasing sharpness to his features; the result of losing several pounds from an already lean body.

"So, you're still alive." said Danny as he came to stand closer by the side of the bed, his hands on his hips and a look of appraisal on his face.

"Yup, still kickin'." yawned Steve, "So, what's up with the case? You guys get hold of those paintings yet?"

"Working on it." replied Danny. Steve did look tired. Maybe he should have let this wait until tomorrow.

"Did the information spilled by the gunmen pan out?" asked Lori as she gathered up her things in preparation to leaving for the evening. "Are the paintings on the Kitakyushu Maru?"

"We can't tell yet. We've boarded the ship and have the crew in custody but nobody's talking. If Nozaki did design that thing he did a pretty good job. He made sure that any contraband would be well-hidden. No doubt that hidden compartment's been used before to smuggle other stuff. Right now, it looks like the search for it is gonna have to involve welders."

"It shouldn't be that hard to figure out where the art is stashed." said Steve, "Get someone who knows what the controls on the bridge of a freighter are supposed to look like. There's gotta be some sort of anomaly that would point out which ballast compartment's capacity is off. They wouldn't be able to fill it with as much water as the one that corresponds to it on the other side of the ship."

"Huh." chuffed Danny in self-chastisement, "Guess I should have figured that one out on my own. I'll get on it first thing in the morning. Nothing's going anywhere until Denning releases the port from lock-down or he loses the argument with the Feds. There are a lot of people unhappy that outbound freight shipments are on hold. They must be jonesing for their pineapple fixes."

"Actually, Hawaii exports more coffee, freshwater prawns and macadamia nuts." said Steve in his, (at times), endearingly pedantic way.

"Of course, Professor McGarrett, I should have known that from my study of global exports and Hawaiian economics." sarcastically responded his partner.

"Hawaii is actually behind the Netherlands and Belgium in pineapple exports." added Steve with a smirk.

"Okay, now you're just messing with me." frowned Danny as he set a bag of coco-puffs on the nightstand, (beside what appeared to be another bakery bag).

"I think I read that somewhere." chimed in Lori who earned an eye roll and snort of exasperation from the detective.

"Don't encourage him." he warned as he seated himself at the foot of the bed and examined his partner more closely; eyes roving over the familiar frame. _Still pale and skinny but, overall, not too bad,_ he concluded after the evaluation.

"Well, I'm glad to know the information was useful." said Steve trying to ignore his partner's undisguised assessment. "It's been pretty boring just sitting around with nothing to do. I think I'm now on season three of Supernatural reruns."

"You and Gracie can compare notes then." replied Danny with a smile. Of course the two people in his life who gave him the most grey hairs would get hooked on a show that could be disturbingly scary.

"So, you've got enough to get a warrant?" asked Steve

"Yeah. We got it all nice and legal before conducting a search. Of course, I had to sort of bend the rules a bit but that's nothing new when you're involved. You seem to have the unique talent of getting others to do your paperwork."

"It's a gift." grinned Steve.

"Yeah, well, I guess this time you get a well deserved pass. Your skills were invaluable. Sometimes you're pretty smart for your age." smiled the detective.

"Well, at least that's a change in your usual comedy routine; you've never called me smart before." said Steve.

"Some of us do actually learn from experience as we get older; as opposed to those who just go blithely along their way and wind up in the hospital on a regular basis." said Danny pointedly.

"Blithely, huh? I see you've been at the dictionary again." snarked Steve.

Lori, hoping to head off a full-on squabble said, "Without your input it certainly would have been a lot longer before we'd have found anything to point us in the right direction."

Stopping in mid-thought of a considered rejoinder, Danny instead agreed with the profiler. "Yeah, babe, without you, we'd have taken forever to break this case. Denning would a canned all our asses. Even from bed you're catching bad guys."

Steve looked a bit uncomfortable with the praise but smiled back at his friend. "I didn't even have to do the legwork on this one."

"See, told you that your team was entirely capable of handling this without you having to hover over them." responded Danny.

"Speaking of hovering . . ." began Steve.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't say it. I know." said Danny with a wave of his hand. "I've already been told you're feeling smothered by my concern for your well being, you animal."

Steve looked first startled then maybe apologetic. "Not that I don't appreciate that you care, Danny, but you've gotta give me some room, man. It's like when Kono talks about being smothered by her aunts when they hug her too tight and she can't breathe. It's sort of um . . . claustrophobic to be the object of your concern and good intentions."

"Okay, okay. I'll letup a little now that I know you're willing to behave yourself." said Danny.

"Willing to behave myself?" said Steve sounding miffed. "What am I, an eight-year old?"

"No, it's more like you're in your terrible twos." chuckled Danny, "That's when kids decide they're beyond parental control. Then, if we let them live long enough to become teenagers, they decide they know everything there is to know about everything and a parent's only role is to dispense money like an ATM machine."

Lori nodded knowingly as Steve scowled at his friend.

"In your case however, there's a definite need to have someone around to keep you from straying to the dark side." said Danny as gestured for Lori to retake her seat on the chair beside the bed. She'd looked uncertain about staying and had remained standing.

"So now you're saying that I need a parent? Hate to tell you this, Danno, but I've been taking care of myself since I was fifteen. I don't think acquiring a parent at this age is going to make much of a difference."

"Yeah, you're probably right." smiled his partner, "Once feral, always feral."

"Hey!" said Steve, realizing he'd walked right into that one.

"Well, I think I'll leave you two to catch-up with one another." interrupted Lori, popping up from where she'd just sat. It amused her that nothing appeared to have changed in the time she'd been away. The two still sounded like an old married couple. It was kind of reassuring that things could be so normal despite the seriousness of Steve's circumstance.

"You don't have to go." quickly declared both men as Lori had taken a step toward the door.

"I know, but Kono promised to show me the best place for sushi tonight. I've got to get home and change."

"Feel better, Steve." With that, she patted him on the shoulder and walked toward the door. Kono had actually wanted to show her the best place to hang out, have a few drinks, and meet guys but she couldn't tell Steve and Danny that.

They said their goodbyes and watched her walk away. When the door closed behind their profiler, Danny turned toward Steve and asked, "So, how goes it today? How are you feeling really?"

"Not too bad actually." replied Steve. "It was a kind of rough morning but I don't feel all that bad right now. Of course actually having something useful to do helped a lot."

Danny nodded then, noticing the cup of jiggly green stuff sitting on the rolling tray next to the bed said, "You weren't kidding about the lime Jello?"

"It's still better than that paste they call mashed potatoes and the little patties of mystery meat that came with." answered Steve.

"You are eating, right? You know you're not gonna get outta here until you get stronger and maybe gain a couple pounds back." warned Danny, once again in mother hen mode. He just couldn't help himself.

"Trying." answered Steve though he'd taken only a couple bites of the 'paste and mystery meat' that had been served for dinner before pushing it away. So far, he'd subsisted on a diet of apple juice and ice cream. Tina, before leaving for home, had brought him two cups of the frozen dessert with an admonishment to eat them.

"Have you talked to your doctors? They say anything about your latest bloodwork?" asked the detective.

"Nothing's changed so far but they said it probably wouldn't after only the first treatment. It was only this morning that I had the infusion."

"How were the side effects? Fanning said they could be uncomfortable." said Danny.

"Well, I'm gonna have a talk with him about using the word 'uncomfortable' to describe it but, so far, not too bad. Just some aches and pains mostly. Kind of like having the flu for a couple hours." shrugged Steve.

"Well, I know I'm not supposed to hover but you know I'm just a phone call away, babe, if you need anything or just want to talk."

"I know, Danny. I really appreciate you guys helping me through this. Really I do, despite my bitching. It's just that I'm not used to being on the other end of things, you know?" Looking down he picked at the edge of the blanket beneath him.

Danny had always harbored the notion that Steve, despite his sometime arrogance, valued others more than he valued himself. The latest example of which was his refusal to utter a word in anger toward the woman who supposedly loved him then had dumped his ass without a look back.

"Steven, I think you've banked enough goodwill helping others to be able to withdraw some to use for yourself." said Danny earnestly. "It's time for your ohana to take up the slack until you get back to being healthy again. We're here for you, babe. We'll do anything you ask of us."

"Does that mean that if I ask you to eat pineapple on pizza with me that you'll do it?" grinned Steve.

"Don't push it, asshole." growled his partner.

…..

As Steve had predicted, it didn't take that long to locate a space not meant for water in one of the ballast tanks. Now, they only had to wait until the tanks were emptied so they could access it. The Naval expert they'd gotten, (after Steve had made a phone call), had spotted the likely location of the hidden compartment almost immediately.

Danny, along with Kono stood on the deck of the ship as the sun rose higher in the sky and began to glare off the water of the harbor. It was going to take another half hour or so before the tank would be empty. As the freighter rose higher in the water due to its lightened load, the pier gradually appeared ever lower than the deck of the ship moored to it.

With the museum director dead, his assistant had arrived half an hour ago to verify the authenticity of the artwork when it was found. As Steve had said, the newer ships were really efficient and were capable of taking in and dispelling water more quickly than some of the older ships. It'll take only a few more minutes for enough water to be pumped out to uncover the secret compartment.

It shouldn't be long now.

…

Chin and Lou, with Lori looking on from her laptop courtesy of the cameras recently set-up in the blue room, were questioning Martin Shaftbottom.

Even without his expensive clothing, the man exuded an air of superiority that was pretty much annoying.

"What do you have to gain by protecting Nozaki?" questioned Chin. "The guy tried to have you killed."

" _Tried_ is the operative word." smiled Shaftbottom.

"The only reason you're not dead right now is that you had the good fortune to almost literally run into two cops looking for your ass." said Lou Grover standing menacingly over the suspect, arms crossed and face set in a scowl.

"Yeah, well, be that as it may, I'm aware of the consequences for anyone who'd been involved in a theft that may have attendant fatalities. If you think I'm going to confess to something that's going to put me behind bars for the rest of my life, you'd better reconsider your assumptions." said Shaftbottom looking at his nails. At least this time they didn't bother to handcuff him to the chair. He wondered if he should be offended they didn't consider him enough threat to do so.

"We've got people waiting to open up that crate you shipped to the Kitakyushu Maru down at the harbor. We've got your prints on the button that opened the doors of the tunnel leading from the museum's basement to the storage area at Loulea Convention Center. It would be in your best interest to fess up to what you've done." said the black man.

"I if were to 'fess up' as you so quaintly put it, I'd be putting myself in a situation for which I'm not well 'suited', to trade on a bad pun. In other words, an orange jumpsuit isn't my best look." sniffed the suspect.

"What if we took that part of the charges off the table?" asked Chin.

"What about the kidnapping charge. I never kidnapped anyone. I've _heard_ that brat was paid a lot of money as were his relatives to just take a nice vacation."

"Okay, we can drop that charge. The aunt and uncle already confessed that they'd been paid to stash the kid for a few weeks. We need what you can give us on Nozaki." said the Hawaiian detective.

"I have one more request . . . well, actually, two more requests before I'll agree to answer any questions." said Martin.

"And they are?" asked the black man, brows raised quizzically, causing his forehead to crease along with some of the scalp atop his shaved head.

"Any potential time spent in the custody of the municipal or federal authorities of this lovely country is to be spent at a minimum security facility. I want to be held at the club med of prisons."

"We don't have the pull to guarantee that." said Chin

"Try, or you'll get nothing from me and Mr. Nozaki will be free to go his merry and lethal way." said Martin, his eyes and tone hardening.

"What's your second demand?" asked Chin without responding to the one for a minimum security facility.

"Any deal you make for me, you also make for a gentleman currently residing in your lovely county jail facility. His name is Robert Hubbard."

….

It had been four days since the first infusion and now it's time to receive the second one in the series. He'd felt well enough to walk here with Danny at his side. They entered the Infusion Room and were greeted by one of the very pleasant nurses who staffed it. This appointment had been scheduled for later in the day and there were several other people here. Some were obviously chemotherapy patients; their skin evenly pale and waxy; faces lacking eyebrows and eyelashes. This lack of facial detail made them appear more as marble sculpture than flesh and blood. Some wore head coverings of various sorts, some didn't bother. There were other patients whose medical issues were not so apparent but the majority of those in the room appeared to be here for chemo.

Neither doctor would be present to witness the effects of this one. Dr. Shan was away at a nephrology conference on the mainland and Dr. Fanning wasn't yet back from attending his daughter's wedding at The Four Seasons on the Big Island. Though specialists made the big bucks, there was tongue-in-cheek speculation among the hospital staff that the hematologist was going to have to mortgage his home to pay for the lavish affair.

Steve relaxed into the comfortably upholstered chair facing the wall of windows and gazed out at the ocean appearing as a strip of blue under a brassy sky in the distance. The buzz of a Honolulu afternoon went on below. Vehicles appeared as toys traveling the congested roadways of the city while pedestrians crawled over its walkways like a badly organized ant colony.

Up here, on the fifth floor, it was all calm and tranquility. Danny was quiet as he took in the actions of the nurse while she prepared the solution for infusion. The only sound that had come from the detective was a softly muttered, "Shit!" when he caught sight of the turkey baster sized syringe in which the drug was mixed with a neutral solution.

"It's just the syringe, D. They mix the stuff with saline so that it doesn't irritate any veins and nerves as much as the straight stuff. I think on the next one they're not going to bother to mix it."

"That's the plan, Commander." confirmed the nurse who was carefully examining the syringe for any remaining air bubbles before she inserted its needle into the picc line's port.

"So why don't you keep mixing it if the drug by itself is going to be so irritating?" asked Danny from the small stool on which he sat a couple feet away on his partner's other side.

"After one or two times, one's blood vessels most likely will have become sensitized to the drug and by infusing a larger volume because it's mixed, we're prolonging contact. Without it being diluted, it's more caustic but the contact is shorter." patiently answered the nurse.

"So, it's a damned if you do, damned if you don't sort of thing?" asked Danny

"Pretty much, D." said Steve with a small smile. Fanning had already warned him this might be rougher than the last infusion. The last round of labs had shown he was already having a mild reaction to the drug's irritant effect on his blood vessels. This would definitely be the last diluted infusion.

Everything set, the nurse began to slowly push in the plunger on the giant syringe and the solution flowed into the picc line. He watched as the yellowish liquid advanced along the tubing until its leading edge disappeared to travel under the skin of his arm toward his heart.

Within a few moments, there was what felt like a sudden flush of warmth spreading out from his chest. The warmth quickly turned to a burning which threatened to consume him from the inside out. He groaned and drew his legs up toward his abdomen.

"Steve?" asked Danny, in concern.

"Shit! They weren't kidding about this one being rougher! I feel like I'm about to burst into flame."

It went downhill from there.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Good or bad, your comments would be much appreciated.**


	28. If at First One Doesn't Succeed

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 28

 **Thank you all for your reviews, comments, follows and favorites. Meant to post this a day sooner but, you know . . . squirrels. Had a lot of trouble with logistics of who was where and when in previous chapters so I had to cheat a little by labeling the sections in this one. Though insomnia is great for writing, it's not necessarily all that good for having what you've written make any sense. SPNGran, (who is probably very sorry she'd volunteered right about now), did another ninety-mile-per-hour beta job. Any remaining mistakes belong to Imaginary Beta who, as you know, can't be trusted.**

 **Disclaimer: If I work it right, I can claim that being paid for one's passion is 'selling-out'. Otherwise, it's admitting to being a slave to an obsession that generates no income.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

If at First One Doesn't Succeed

 **Four days ago:**

The ballast tank was finally empty and its watertight hatch had been opened. Danny, Kono, and two of HPD's finest descended into the dimness. One of the uniformed men carried a heavy tool bag, its strap hooked over a muscular shoulder as he followed the Five-0 cops down the ladder.

When his feet touched the deck of the tank, Danny shone his flashlight around its walls and was surprised to find that it wasn't as he'd expected – a rusting, scaling, metal box. It had been coated in some sort of protective polymer which negated the corrosive effect of salt water. Though smelling strongly of the sea, its interior was relatively clean.

As the others clambered down the ladder, the detective took the moment to deliberately breathe steadily and slowly in and out to the count of seven. Claustrophobia was something he could only marginally control. Steve and Chin had taught him some breathing techniques to use as a coping tool. In past times, he'd have never even considered entering a space such as this.

In the middle of the tank, as predicted, stood a large crate; its exterior of waterlogged wood stamped with the name of the fictional company from the trade show. If the paintings were in there, inside of the outer covering should be a water-tight, humidity controlled, inner container of some sort.

Though the space, with four people and a big box in it, was cramped and claustrophobic, the rookie cop wielding the crowbar was happy to have been chosen to be a member of this op even if he was only its muscle. Five-0 is one of the best and most elite task forces in the country. Its leader, Commander McGarrett, is one seriously scary dude; his focus and determination legendary. Everyone knows the guy could be an asshole if you did anything to endanger his team or others for which he was responsible so he made a lot of people nervous.

Five-0's leader is also scarily lethal. The HPD rookie, only a week after having been sworn-in, had participated in a joint operation involving the governor's task force, the DEA and the Honolulu Police Department in the take down of a drug ring. There'd been a firefight and innocent bystanders had been taken as hostages. They'd been rescued and the situation had ultimately been resolved by the actions of Five-0's leader. The man has ice water in his veins.

The young cop, using a crowbar, pried the lid of the crate loose. The wood hadn't been in the water long enough for it to disintegrate but it wasn't all that difficult to loosen the nails that held it down. Inside the crate was another crate; this one made of stuff that looked sort of like those expensive ice chests only lots bigger.

Both Five-0 officers were looking over his shoulders as the two padlocks were snipped off with bolt cutters. Then, getting his fingers under its edge, there was an audible pop as the watertight gasket lost its seal and the hinged lid was lifted.

"Holy shit." indelicately murmured Officer Kalakaua as the contents were revealed.

…...

Tatsuo Nozaki surveyed the men before him. They were, for the most part, good and capable soldiers. Generational members of his organization, their fathers, grandfathers and beyond had served his family for hundreds of years.

However, two of these warriors were missing. Hisao and Junichi had been snatched up by Hawaii's most fearsome law enforcement organization and the Kitakyushu Maru had been seized and searched. Unless they'd somehow been tricked during questioning, (considering at least one of the two, it was certainly possible), there is no way they would have talked. Nevertheless, the authorities had found out about the ship and its possible cargo.

Very few had known about the secret compartment and he's confident that those who did know of its existence are much too afraid to talk. No one who knew the consequences for doing so would have the yuuki to do it. No, the information had to have come from the gaijin thief Martin Shaftbottom. However indirectly it is his employee's fault. If they'd killed him as had been so ordered, this would never have happened.

No matter if the name of the ship had been revealed deliberately or by a slip of the tongue, Junichi and Hisao need to be eliminated. He'd given them a second chance and they'd failed again. Junichi would be hard to replace but the other would be no great loss. The man has all the sense of a kin gyo, (gold fish). The only reason the imbecile had been taken on is due to tradition. It would have been a great insult to good and loyal members of the clan if Hisao had been refused work. Well, it's of no mind now. All three would be taken care of and, if possible, their deaths would look like accidents. His knew his soldier's families would sooner lose their sons to death than to bring dishonor to the clan.

"You have your orders." he said to the men before him, "Carry them out.

 **Present day:**

Danny sat watching his friend shift restlessly on the bed as he tried to find a more comfortable position. Thankfully, the initial reaction to the drug as it dispersed throughout his body had abated, but within the hour, the flu-like joint and muscle pain had come to take its place along with a fierce headache.

After Steve had completed this third infusion and had resettled himself in his room, Danny announced he was going to the cafeteria to pick up a snack. "There's no way you can survive on only ice cream and juice." he'd admonished but had no idea what Steve would or could eat. This is going to be a challenge.

Earlier, Tina had taken the detective aside to tell him that those who were showing the effects of lack of nutrition would windup with an NG tube. She'd asked him to encourage her patient to eat. No one was looking forward to telling Steve that he'd have to submit to another procedure. _Maybe I'll have to pull out the big guns . . . get Gracie to talk to her uncl_ _e,_ thought the worried detective as he pressed the button that would take the elevator down to the basement cafeteria.

….

Nozaki tapped his pen on the koa wood desk impatiently. No matter he was currently lodged at the veritable palace of a home belonging to an associate. He wanted off this island!

He'd just gotten the latest report from his people. So far, his orders hadn't been carried out. While his two missing henchman had been located in the county jail after having been denied bail at their hearing, Martin Shaftbottom was nowhere to be found.

At least the paintings hadn't been discovered. They sat awaiting transport to Japan. The _only_ thing found in the compartment had been a million dollar shipment of Hawaii's most famous agricultural product. The high grade cannabis of the islands is the best in the world and connoisseurs of the pungent product would pay a high price for it. Still, such things are replaceable.

In the olden days, his clan would never even have considered dealing in such products but times are changing and, if it intends to survive, so must his organization. There are dynamic new markets opening up for all sorts of drugs; both pharmaceutical and otherwise. In Japan, with harsh penalties for such things, illegal drugs are very, very, expensive. The profit margin is extraordinary.

His meeting with the blonde detective had been interesting. The man seemed to be fairly certain that he, Oyabun of one of the most powerful clans of all, had possession of the Klimt painting. That is also a mystery to be solved but no matter; they'll never get it back. And if things go as planned they will never find his most recent acquisitions either. It will be an interesting game. Five-0 is a worthy adversary.

…...

While surveying the selection of possible foods offered by the cafeteria, his phone rang. Tucking the still empty tray under his arm he pulled the device from his pocket. It was Chin's ID displayed on the screen.

"So, how'd it go, buddy?" he asked, expecting to hear that the paintings had been recovered.

"Well, there's good news and there's bad news." answered Chin.

"What happened? Just start with the bad news and get it over with." sighed Danny.

"We didn't find the paintings . . ."

"Shit." responded Danny.

"But the good news is that we did find another huge cache of pot."

"Who the hell cares about pakalolo?" said Danny in frustration. If he had a hand free, it would have been raking through his hair right now, "Everyone and their grandmother smokes ganja here. If you wanna get high, all you have to do is hang out behind the gym at the junior high school and take a deep breath."

"As you know, Hawaiian weed is worth quite a bit in the states." responded Chin, "but, in Japan, it's worth ten times as much. The Japanese take their drug laws seriously, brah, so the rule of supply and demand drives the price way up."

"Maybe they should loosen up a bit. That Nozaki dude was intense. He could probably benefit from a toke or two." snorted Danny.

"I'll have to hang up in another couple minutes, Danny. The DEA is just pulling up. They're here to inventory the stuff and then brag about its dollar value to the media." said Chin sarcastically.

"So, it's back to the drawing board I guess. Steve's not gonna be happy." said Danny.

"Speaking of our fearless leader, how is he?" asked Chin as the sound of car doors slamming could be heard in the background.

"Not so great. The drug caused a lot of pain this time when they gave it to him. He said it felt like his veins were on fire. Then, about half an hour after that faded, he got slammed by muscle and joint pain. Right now, he's got a bad headache and it looks like his temperature's up. Not a happy camper."

"Tell him we're thinking of him." said Chin.

"Will do." said Danny.

" _Tell them I'll be there in a minute, Lou."_ he heard Chin yell to Grover before the Hawaiian took up the conversation once again. "So, you got anything specific you want us to handle?" he asked.

"Just keep on keeping on. I'm gonna give Weston a call and ask her to dig through the shipping records again. There's gotta be more than the two ships that belong to the Yakuza. We've got to find another one and hope the paintings are on it. That first ship didn't look to me like a standard freighter. It was a little high-end and a little smaller than most I've seen. If the same designer is listed for the ship you just searched as well as the Whatchamacallit Maru, . . ."

"Kitakyushu." corrected Chin.

"Yeah, whatever, Mr. Berlitz." responded Danny. "If there's another boat . . ."

"Ship." said Chin.

The correction drew a snort from Danny. "Who do you think you are - Steve? I already have one of those thank you very much."

There was only a small chuckle on the other end. Chin is aware that Danny knows Navy jargon but it had become automatic for the stubborn Jersey native to switch military designations just to annoy his partner.

"As I was saying, if there's a connection, Weston may be able to find it. She's as obsessive as Steve is though a lot better lookin' and may actually be able to sit still long enough to do the research."

"Okay, Danny. I've already talked to Denning – another unhappy camper – and he hasn't fired us yet. He actually sounded pleased about the pakalolo."

"The news coverage will probably give him a boost in the polls if he works it right." chuffed Danny.

"That's true." agreed Chin, "Someday I just hope we'll get back to fighting crime on the more hum-drum end of the scale."

"I'll tell Steve the news if I don't think it'll make him get out of bed to go find the paintings himself. Talk to you later." With that, he ended the call then sighed tiredly and got back to his task.

Setting the tray in front of the assortment of steam tables and cold food displays covered by a glass sneeze guard he began looking for what he thought may be okay for Steve to try. He selected a small container of tapioca, another of yogurt, several packets of soda crackers, and a couple single-serving mini-tubs of peanut butter. The cafeteria's soup of the day is chicken noodle so he put a container of that on the tray as well. _We'll have to start with this and see how it goes._ he thought as he pushed the assortment along the tray slide toward the cashier at its end.

….

The safe house isn't all that bad but it's certainly not the kind of place he usually stays during his infrequent visits to Hawaii – when he's not living in a fleabag motel or on the street that is.

It hadn't taken all that long. The large, bald, dark-skinned cop and the pleasingly attractive female Hawaiian cop had been in the room for less than thirty minutes. _They're good,_ thought Martin, displeased but not without admiration. Somehow, they'd dug up his long and _mostly_ unremarkable history and were now questioning him about it.

"So, Mr. Shaftbottom, you grew up in Norwalk, California?" asked the black man for confirmation. He was sitting in an armchair facing his prisoner on the other side of the small table.

"Yes, and a lovely place it is." said Martin with a roll of his eyes.

"That's weird. You've given everyone the impression that you are to the manor born." smiled Lou Grover. "You even had Interpol fooled. How did you manage that?"

"Wasn't hard. Who would look beyond the name Shaftbottom. I mean, with all the shit I had to put up with from the other kids when I was growing up, it certainly isn't a name that one would choose."

"So, your _real_ surname is Shaftbottom?" asked Kono from a chair to the left of Grover. As their prisoner had said, why would anyone choose such a name? His life must have been hell in grade school.

Martin proceeded to explain that, yes, Shaftbottom is his real surname but his mother had remarried after she'd dumped his father for being unable to provide her with a lifestyle to which she felt entitled. Her new husband whom she'd married a scant two days after the divorce had been declared final, had agreed to adopt her twelve-year-old son. Though his step-son's somewhat prissy ways didn't completely make the bullies leave him alone, the new name, 'Roberston' was one which provided no further fodder for humiliation.

"It was only after many years did I switch back to my birth name." concluded Martin at the end of the explanation of his origins as a kid from a not terribly posh neighborhood he'd escaped as soon as he was able.

"No offense, but why did you switch back to that name when you could have used any other?" asked Kono.

Martin frowned at the question but decided to give a truthful answer. "My father, Martin Shaftbottom Senior, was a very nice, very hard working man. My stepfather was a dick. I guess it was a way of regaining my true identify and honoring my late father. Of course the name change would stick it to my stepfather as well. Did I mention earlier, the guy was a dick?"

Said Kono, "So you're saying the authorities never tracked back to the name Robertson?"

"Well, as it turns out, the name change was never legalized. My step-father lied to my mother about adopting me. He had her sign some sort of phony document that said it was okay for me to be declared his son. She wasn't very bright but she had a great sense of style." snorted Martin.

Eventually, a deal had finally been struck. Both Martin and Bob would be on their way to a minimum security prison as soon as Nozaki was in custody. Martin had agreed to lay out everything that had occurred since the Oyabun had contacted him three years ago and the plot had been hatched to be in on the building of the new convention center.

Since the Yakuza overlord would be considered a flight risk, there's no way they'd let the man out on bail once he was arrested. Now, all they had to do is somehow get hold of the stolen artwork and manage not to get their witnesses killed by gangsters. No problem.

…..

It was nearly time for dinner and Steve had only managed to eat a packet of crackers and a spoonful or two of soup.

"Crap." he heard Steve mutter as he sat up and pressed his hands on either side of his temples.

"Your head's worse I take it?" asked the detective, worry in his voice as he sat forward in the chair next to the bed.

"Yeah, you could say that." answered Steve through clenched jaw. "Feels like it's going to fucking explode."

"Can't they give you something for it? Why haven't they done that yet?"

"They won't give me anything but Tylenol right now and it won't even take the edge off so why bother?" responded Steve, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain in his head.

Danny, voice edged with frustration asked."Tylenol?! For cryin' out loud, can't they give you something stronger!?"

"Anything else might screw with my kidneys they said." answered Steve as he rubbed at his temples and tried to ignore his rising nausea.

"Bullshit. There's gotta be something they can give you."

"Tina said it's all that's authorized until Fanning or Shan says otherwise." answered Steve, paling further and now beginning to pant.

"Then let's get their asses here." said Danny, as he stood from his chair to take a step toward the door. He was going to the nurse's station to demand the doctors be contacted.

"Stop, D. They're not even on the island right now." said Steve, eyes still closed but he could hear Danny's footsteps on the linoleum.

"Then who the hell is in charge!?" asked Danny pivoting back toward the bed and waving his hands about in typical fashion. "Surely there's someone to call."

"There is but I can't remember the name right now. I'm sorry, it hurts too much to think. Tina can tell you." Steve plopped ungracefully back onto the bed, regretting doing so when it exacerbated the pain in his head and increased the feeling he was going to ralph at any moment.

"Ugh," he groaned as he suddenly jackknifed upward to a sitting position again, "Gonna be sick . . ."

Before his friend could even take a step toward him, Steve managed to grab the emesis basin that Tina had made sure was within reach when her patient had been wheeled into the room. Despite being able to walk to the infusion facility, he'd had to return from it in a wheelchair, feeling unwell enough that he didn't even protest having to use it.

There wasn't much in his stomach to bring up so after less than a minute he had to suffer through a round of dry heaves. "Oh dammit, not again." he moaned when the spasms had finally ceased and blood began to drip off his chin. The strain of retching had triggered a nosebleed.

Danny quickly searched through the crumpled bedding to find the call button and grabbing it up pressed it repeatedly. He then dashed into the bathroom to snatch up a towel then returned to hurriedly place it in his friend's hand.

"I doan care what Tina thinks, jussshoot me now." moaned Steve through the terrycloth fabric he pressed to his face, not wanting to tilt his head back as the blood that would flow down his throat could trigger another round of heaving.

As they waited for someone to respond to the request for assistance, Danny could only rub soothingly on the shoulder of his friend hunched forward in misery.

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 **Hope you liked it. Let me know. Reviews are better than money . . . right?**

 **Note to joyfuljaj: Sorry I couldn't get this out sooner. I hope your week will get better.**


	29. The Good Day

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 29

 **Actually made my deadline this time. Surprise! Thank you all so much for your comments on the two previous chapters. I think I've finally gotten back to you all. If I haven't, I apologize. Still fighting with my laptop so it wasn't easy to go about the process this time. Was distracted by my desire to chuck it out the window.**

 **SPNGran took a preliminary look at this but the final proofing was done by and can be blamed on Imaginary Beta. At least she works cheap.**

 **Disclaimer: If I got paid for this I would immediately buy a ticket to Redmond, Washington where Microsoft's HQ is located and demand that whoever the hell thought that Windows 10 was a good idea be immediately executed.**

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The Good Day

After a lot of digging, Lori had come up with the names of two more ships owned by companies with strong Yakuza ties. One of the two vessels had been built to nearly the same specs as the first ship, the Kitakyushu Maru. With what would seem an attempt to help in its disguise, this ship flew one of the ubiquitous flags of convenience signifying Panamanian registry. The other was much the same; having been registered in the Marshall Islands and flew the flag of that small country's merchant fleet. Both ships carried Western sounding names.

The profiler had used her connections from her 'real' job to dig deeper than she could on her own or as part of the Governor's Task Force. At the same time, she'd requested an extended leave from Homeland Security rather than the accumulated vacation time originally planned. After explaining the reason why she needed it and that it could benefit more than just Five-0, it had been granted. For now, she is officially on unpaid leave from her post there. Any assistance they provided was done as a personal favor, (there would be payback in the future).

While not necessarily warm and fuzzy, Governor Denning had grown used to the idea of someone he'd fired returning to work for Five-0 once again. He'd actually been pleasant the few times she'd had contact with the man. Also, rather than calling the team to ream them out for not yet recovering the art, their stern employer's calls were more inquiries regarding the health of Five-0's absent leader.

During their search for the paintings, they'd serendipitously discovered several more shipments of illegal substances that included pharmaceuticals as well as pot. This had put Five-0 back in his good graces; the publicity would be great for his re-election campaign. The acting head of Five-0, Detective Williams, had reluctantly been pressed into service at least a couple of times to appear on camera and give details of the busts. Since press releases had listed the Governor's Special Task Force and the DEA as co-crime fighters in a joint operation, the feds had gotten their mileage out of it as well. The consolation for being Denning's, as Danny himself had termed it, 'performing monkey' is at least the DEA people were the ones who have to inventory the crap and haul it away.

Sadly, other things were not so rosy. Steve was nearing the end of his treatments and there'd been no progress in his recovery.

…..

The most recent infusion had been really rough. His body now fully sensitized to the drug; the doctors had finally decided to authorize stronger pain relief. Steve was now totally out of it on the days he received treatment and not that much more with-it for the following two days.

His team had established their own hospital schedule; rotating shifts so that it would impact their workload as little as possible. Denning had quickly signed off on the arrangements. Kono thought maybe the man was possibly feeling guilty for pushing the team so hard that its leader had chosen to stay on the job rather than seek medical care.

After a rocky start to their working relationship, Sam Denning, besides coming to respect the task force leader, had grown to actually like him. Any measure that would help to support McGarrett's recovery would meet with little resistance from the State of Hawaii's chief executive officer. As long as the team performed their jobs to a reasonable level of success, they were free to establish their own schedules to accommodate the needs of their hospitalized leader

Lately, Steve really didn't remember much of at least half of his days here. The doctors had told him the pain meds would pretty much knock him on his ass for at least forty-eight hours after the drug infusions and they were right. He had learned from Tina that someone had come every one of those days to sit vigil in the chair beside his bed.

If he tried really hard, he could recall a faint smell of coconut which he knew had to be Kono; it was her shampoo or something. And there was Lori's delicate cologne – a scent he still couldn't identify. Sometimes it would be the smell of cigars he knew would have to mean Lou Grover was near. Though the ex-SWAT commander couldn't smoke on hospital grounds, the tobacco smell still clung to him. He toked out of sight of his wife Renee who'd finally stopped giving him grief about smoking 'those disgusting things'. Her husband couldn't possibly be fooling her though.

When Danny was near there could be any number of smells: gum, malasadas, coffee . . . Sometimes when he'd run out of his own shampoo he'd use his daughter's which made him smell like an overripe strawberry. It was always a prompt for smartassed observations in the past but even opening his eyes was much too difficult during the two days after infusions.

Chin was like a cat. He didn't seem to have a scent but there was a sense of him nonetheless. It was weird.

Even their food truck/shave ice/helicopter tour entrepreneur had taken time to sit in the designated chair. Kamekona always smelled like fried shrimp. Before the anemia, if Steve had been hungry, it could actually trigger a craving for garlic shrimp – the big man's specialty. These days, it would only cause nausea. On bad days, even the thought of food could could bring on a round of dry heaves.

On the one day out of every four when he felt halfway decent, he would walk a few steps or someone would fetch a wheelchair and push him around the corridors for a few minutes. If there was shade in the courtyard, he could maybe talk them into going outdoors. It wasn't a good idea to be in the sun right now. Both Fanning and Shan had warned him that with the still ongoing antibiotics, sunlight could trigger an allergic reaction. With every fiber of his being he wanted to feel its warmth on his skin, but he wasn't willing to risk sitting in the sun's direct light. He'd just have to find warmth where he could. Sometimes when he was shivering, Tina or one of the other nurses would bring heated blankets and tuck them around him. It would feel like heaven. Who knew that something so simple could feel so good to a body that could barely generate its own heat?

Even though the latest tests hadn't shown much, if any, improvement he wasn't ready to give up yet. It wasn't in his nature to do so and he'd promised his team he'd fight it with everything in him. He wouldn't let them down if he could help it.

This morning he lay absently gazing at whatever was on television. This was one of those increasingly rare times someone wasn't sitting in the chair beside his bed. His team had tried to give him some space as requested.

He was almost regretting asking them to back off. Their compliance to his request was appreciated but it wasn't always a good thing to be left without something to distract him. He really missed being able to run or swim his way to peace and calm. Body relaxed and soul soothed he could return to work refreshed and focused. These days, his only exertion was to walk the few steps to the bathroom and back. It would exhaust him and it wasn't soothing in the least.

Anyway, today is a good day. He looked forward to Danny's visit. Now that Five-0's temporary leader seemed confident it wouldn't trigger an escape attempt, he was willing to give updates on details of ongoing cases. He would ask for advice and ideas on how to go about investigating and solving whatever case the team was engaged in. Sometimes, their discussions would actually prove fruitful and aid in the pursuit of wrongdoers but even if they didn't, Steve would smile inwardly. He knew that Danny was trying to make him feel better by asking for his help. The feeling of being so absolutely fucking useless was becoming stronger every day.

His visitors would sometimes bring magazines, books, and even DVDs. Chin had hooked up a blue-ray player to the flat screen on the wall opposite his bed. Kono had somehow found discs of every season of 'CHIPs' and Max had proudly shown up one day with a boxed set of every episode of 'Magnum P.I.', apparently one of their M.E.'s faves. Sometimes they'd even bring flowers to brighten up the room. Danny, of course, would bring his daughter's latest get-well card which would annoy the crap out of Tina who had to deal with a sparkle covered patient and bedding. However messy the home-made, unintentional glitter bombs would be; they always seemed to delight their recipient. He'd make special effort to get out of bed to pin them to the wall opposite his bed. Unfortunately, due to hospital rules, children weren't allowed to visit on this floor. Steve remembers that Danny had once called his daughter's soccer team 'noisy, smelly, little germ factories'. It had made him laugh but he didn't suspect at the time that it would have any bearing on his own life. Times have changed.

His visitors had long given up on bringing him anything to eat.

Tina no longer threatened him with an NG tube if he didn't eat. Considering his now non-existent appetite and continued weight loss, it was most likely inevitable he'd windup with one. He'd tried valiantly to avoid that happening but anything he ate just wouldn't stay down no matter what kind or how much of any anti-nausea meds they'd given him.

Now that things had gotten rougher, someone had decided it would be too tiring for him to have more than one visitor at a time. That was fine with him for the most part.

He slept a lot now.

….

He'd been here for over two weeks!. American television is just awful! How many times can he watch people fight over whose baby daddy is whose? He thought he'd gotten away from such things when he'd escaped from the unfortunate circumstances of his upbringing. Why can't these idiots just stop reproducing willy-nilly and keep their friggin' paws and other body parts off of each other! And the brawls? Sheesh! Control yourselves, people!

Still, when he thought about it, he'd seen similar situations in places with a much higher per-capita income than those currently hissing and spitting on the fifty-two inch big screen. He wondered how many rather loosely allied spouses and 'close friends' would be duking it out if they actually cared about their offspring and didn't have lackeys who were expected to 'just handle it' for them.

He sipped his diet Coke and took another bite of his cheeseburger as he watched a rather large woman put a man into a headlock while his wife/girlfriend/whatever tried to pry her rival off of her boo. The first woman then turned on the second with all the ferocity of a deranged wolverine. Someone's hair extensions were pulled loose and went flying. The supposed baby daddy just stood there with his mouth stupidly hanging open as two burly men with the words 'Staff' printed on the backs of their windbreakers each grabbed a woman and pulled them apart while whatever words the two embattled females exchanged were pretty much bleeped out of existence.

Martin shook his head. It's amazing what trouble one can get into for just a little roll in the hay. Sex is fine but why would anyone even want to reproduce if not absolutely necessary for the continuation of the species? Children are horrible little creatures, (okay, granted, those ragamuffins at the shelter were kind of cute), but the little bastards can be so cruel. He can still remember their taunts during the early years of grade school. Even when his last name was no longer an issue and he was using his mother's husband's name, (he would never call him a father), they still tortured him.

Just because he wanted to look nice and wear a tie with a coordinating shirt and some nice slacks instead of those hideous T-shirts and dungarees; the vicious progeny of Satan had given him a lot of grief. He certainly hadn't missed them when he'd finally gotten a chance to get the hell out of Dodge, (or Norwalk as it may be). It had been difficult making his way to Paris with many temporary layovers along the way but with brains and a lot of deviousness he'd reinvented himself as a citizen of the world. These days, he could describe himself as a jewel thief every bit as charming and debonair as those he'd idolized in the movies he'd seen while growing up. There may not be much difference morally between stealing an automobile's sound system versus a fifty-thousand dollar diamond necklace but monetarily it was another world. A world of art and music and decent food! He sighed forlornly as he stuck another fried, ketchup coated, strip of potato into his mouth. This is as apparently as French as it's going to get until they catch Nozaki.

Martin then brightened the tiniest bit, wiped the salt and grease off his hands onto the paper napkin, and picked up the remote control. _It's almost time for 'Ellen'!_

… _._

Lori stood by the side of the bed, evaluating her sleeping friend's appearance. He didn't look much like the intimidating man she'd said goodbye to what seems a lifetime ago. Instead of the tan, robust, guy who'd kicked ass on a nearly daily basis, the man who lay before her at this moment appeared disturbingly frail and anything but robust.

The profiler studied his face. Skin almost deathly pale, his dark lashes brushed the bluish hollows below his eyes. Weight loss accentuated bone structure. With an aquiline nose and cheekbones made sharper by the in-curved sides of his face, she thought he looked as though he was carved of marble – elegantly beautiful despite his precarious health.

Today is the second day after another infusion. Due to the pain caused by his body's reaction to the drug that had sensitized his nerve endings, medication with a heavily sedating effect is also now part of the regimen. His doctors had decided the deleterious effects of enduring severe pain outweighed the threat of kidney issues. Pain can cause spikes in blood pressure which, considering the current fragility of their patient's circulatory system is not a good idea.

Though she'd been here with him for the last four hours he hadn't reacted to her presence. Soon, Chin would be taking the next shift. Even though he hadn't awakened during various of his caregivers checks of his vital signs and the nearly hourly blood draws, she thought he was perhaps aware there was someone in the room.

"Steve, I'm going to be leaving as soon as Chin gets here in a couple minutes." she said as she stood to lean over the side of the bed. "Someone will always be here with you if you need us. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Cath?" He'd said it so softly she almost couldn't make out what he'd murmured. "Doan leave." he whispered as his brow furrowed in what may be worry of abandonment.

After hesitating a moment, she leaned to stroke his forehead and softly replied, "Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

That seemed to calm him. "Kay." he sighed then, without opening his eyes, he turned his head into her touch and murmured, "Love you."

Barely able to get the words out as her chest ached with sadness she replied softly, "I love you too." She pressed her lips to his forehead and he smiled then drifted back to where he'd been most of the day.

Chin had arrived as scheduled and she managed to grin in greeting. "He's been asleep since right after I arrived. He was in a lot of pain and they gave him a pretty good jolt of pain medication. Tina says the meds will keep him pretty much out of it for another couple hours at least."

The Hawaiian detective returned her grin of greeting then quickly sobered to nod in acknowledgment of the information. "I've got the watch now. I'll let you guys know if anything important comes up." he said.

"The nurse also said that when he wakes up, the worst of the pain should have abated and that, if he seems up to it, we should maybe ask him if he wants to get out of this room for a bit. Change of scenery and all."

"I'll ask him. No doubt Steve will say he's ready to run a marathon if it means it'll get him out of this room." smiled Chin.

"Sounds like our leader." she replied, returning his smile with one that didn't quite reach her eyes.

With a small wave of farewell, she turned to walk out the door and down the corridor. Luckily, when she arrived at the bank of elevators there was one waiting for her. She entered the small box and pressed the button while wiping tears from her eyes. When it reached the ground floor she exited to stride purposefully across the main lobby to the hospital's entrance and out the big sliding-glass doors to the parking lot. She had to talk to Danny in person. There is a phone call that needs to be made.

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 **I hope to update within a week.**

 **Thank you for reading. Your comments would be appreciated.**


	30. Makama'i

Chapter 30

 **Surprise again. Here's a nice looong chapter for you. Thank you all for reading, following and favoriting. A special thank you to those who were kind enough to comment.**

 **SPNGran was on fire this time and provided some great ideas as well as lightening-quick proofing. Any remaining errors can be blamed on Imaginary Beta who just can't leave well enough alone. She's one of those imbeciles who sees a 'Wet Paint' sign and can't control the impulse to touch. Her grubby little fingerprints are all over this one.**

 **Disclaimer: Neither money nor fame was achieved by this endeavor. Sucks, doesn't it?**

 **Note: Special thanks to LongLiveBRUCAS for her idea regarding Steve's medical treatme** **nt** **.**

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Makama'i

"So, I really don't want to meddle but I think it might be a good idea to contact her." said Lori Weston who waited expectantly for a reply. She and Five-0's temporary leader were in his office with the door closed. She'd called to ask for a private meeting and, luckily, he'd just come back from a case in Pearl City. Kono and Lou stood at the smart table, looking on curiously from a distance.

He sat pensively considering what she'd just told him; already aware that Steve is still hung up on Catherine - one didn't have to be a psychic to figure that one out. Danny had subtly, (and at times not so subtly), hinted that it was time for his friend to move on. Finally, the detective had declared to his friend that he's an idiot if he doesn't move on but Steve hadn't let go. Danny thinks he's still hoping she'll come back.

To be sure, the man is no monk. There'd been that woman they'd met on the plane on the way to Maui for the mistakenly booked couple's retreat. She'd obviously made some sort of impression. Steve had returned to their hotel room three sheets to the wind and covered in lipstick smears. No doubt he'd at least made a step in the direction of moving on from the woman he'd given his heart to so many years ago. In the months after he and Catherine had split there'd probably been others as well but, to use the excuse of those who'd strayed while in a relationship, 'it was only physical'. His friend only thought it depressing.

"You said he thought you were Catherine?" asked Danny. Though she'd already made the statement, he could see her hesitancy to confirm it.

"Umm, yeah. He wasn't really awake when I was saying goodbye but I heard him call her name and ask her not to leave." Even thinking of it made her throat tighten with emotion. She hoped Danny wouldn't ask what her reply had been.

Finally, as the detective sat further contemplating the situation, she blurted out, "Danny, it doesn't look like he's improving much if at all. Maybe Catherine can help him want to hang on. I know it might upset her . . ."

"I don't give a shit if she's upset!" snapped Danny.

Lori was taken aback by the detective's reaction but didn't show her surprise. She certainly understood it. He and Steve are brothers who will always protect one another, sometimes even from themselves.

Danny sighed loudly, let out a slow breath, then ran his hands along both sides of his hair trying to calm himself while thinking, _This suck_ _s_ _. The entire_ _friggin'_ _universe suck_ _s_ _._ Finally he said, "I guess it couldn't hurt to ask her if she'll get her ass on a plane and come to see him. God only knows why but he's still carrying a torch for the woman. See if you can find out where she is and tell her what's gong on." He paused a beat then said, "Tell her to hurry."

It would be almost another week before Lori managed to track her down.

...

He could have visited two days ago. He'd told himself, (and Steve), that he was too busy with Five-0's ongoing cases. Steve said he understood.

Danny felt like a total asshole.

At the very least he was a coward. He now understood why Steve, when faced with emotions he had no idea how to handle, would just work himself to the point of exhaustion so that he could fall asleep at night. As his smartass partner had said to him a long time ago, 'You have a lot of emotions, Danny'. The one that takes precedence over all the others this time is fear. For the last couple of days he'd been nearly paralyzed with it.

As Steve grew ever more ill, either from the anemia or the drug used to treat it, it became harder and harder to see him that way. It broke his heart to come into Steve's room and see that his best friend appeared thinner and even more haggard than the day before. It broke his heart to see someone who could run for miles and swim 'to Molokai and back' before breakfast struggle to walk even a few steps before having to stop and rest. It broke his heart that Steve is putting on a brave face while lying in a hospital bed, trying to look as though he's winning his battle with the invisible enemy slowly robbing him of life. The Hawaiians have a word for it, 'makamai'. He'd heard Chin and Kono use it when their aunt was dying. It means 'to watch fade away or die'. He wished it was a word he'd never learned.

He didn't want to face that his heart could be broken that one, last, time when Steve may not be able to hold off the unthinkable. There'd been no improvement with the drug and the drug itself was wreaking havoc on his friend's increasingly frail body. The tough Jersey detective was still reeling from his last phone conversation with Dr. Shan when he'd learned that the anemia may have reached a point of no return. Even a bone marrow transplant wouldn't help. Steve's only hope is that the drug will kick-in.

If the anemia wins, and he lost another partner; lost another brother, Danny knew his heart would shatter into so many pieces it couldn't ever be put back together again. So, yeah, fear was winning.

Arriving at room 602, he took a deep breath, put on a smile, then pushed open the door. _I can do this,_ he said to himself.

….

"Good, it's done then?" asked Nozaki as he tapped his pen on the desk. The pen was a gift from the Oyabun of another clan. It was a Tebaldi fountain pen and cost thousands of dollars but at this moment it could be made of wood and tinfoil for all the annoyance that prompted him to rap it on the desktop like a drumstick.

"Yes, Mr. Nozaki." replied the voice with a not quite identifiable accent. "They're all packed up and we're just waiting to get underway."

"When will you be arriving in Tahiti?" asked the Yakuza Don.

"Between twelve and fourteen days from now." answered the captain of the sailing ship leaving from the Ke'ehi small boat harbor; part of the intricate complex that is Honolulu Harbor.

"You can't be more exact than that?" said Nozaki in irritation at the rather casual, in his opinion, estimate.

"It's going to depend on the trade winds and currents. We shouldn't have any issues with weather at this time of year so that won't be a factor but I can't pin it down any more precisely than that."

"Very well then." snapped Nozaki and ended the call.

 _These island people are much too laid back in their ways of going about their business. It will be good to get back to Japan,_ thought the Oayabun as he pressed speed dial to check with his own people who would, no doubt, be more exacting in their work. Though it was taking longer than planned, he had every reason to believe they would be successful in their task of getting rid of his incarcerated employees and the thief Martin Shaftbottom.

….

Steve would expect him to enter without knocking. There's no need for permission to barge into each other's lives; not from the day Steve had Shanghai'd a former Jersey detective to be his partner and that partner had stayed to become ohana.

"Hey buddy." he greeted as Steve looked up from his laptop on the tray before him. Almost translucently pale now, his skin had taken on the bluish tint of a figure in one of those paintings – _a Renoir?_

"Long time no see." grinned his friend, swinging the rolling tray away from the bed. It didn't look as though there were any hard feelings for the delay in his visit.

"Yeah, well, you know better than anyone how it can be. Haven't had time to take a breath now that we're back to our usual crime fighting duties along with our biggest pain-in-the-ass case ever." answered Danny not altogether untruthfully.

"Denning still giving you shit about the art heist?" asked Steve. Both Kono and Lou had said the governor had backed off but they weren't the ones who usually took his calls.

"Not so much now. He's bugging us about other cases these days."

Danny plopped himself down in the chair next to the bed after depositing a bag from the hospital's gift shop onto the tray's top already occupied by Steve's cell phone, laptop, and a cup of uneaten ice cream.

"What's this D?" asked his friend.

"Thought you'd like to work on something to send to my daughter; considering she's made at least a zillion get-well cards for you." The detective waved toward the wall where Gracie's handiwork was displayed. There were many sparkly greetings attached to it. He should be pleased that the teenager still thinks it's cool to fashion handmade cards for her uncle. It seems she'd never lost her fondness for glue and glitter.

Steve curiously opened the bag displaying the hospital's logo, made less institutional by placing it in the middle of the big stylized flower printed on the outside of the bag. He pulled out a coloring book and a box of color markers.

"Seriously?" questioned Steve with a snort though he grinned delightedly as he paged through the black and white illustrations of famous paintings. He loved to get gifts. There'd been far fewer of them in his life than in most other people's.

"I know that expecting you to color between the lines is like expecting a cat to learn algebra. You'll only piss it off and it will wander away after giving you a dirty look," snarked Danny, "but maybe the famous paintings theme will keep you interested."

"You mean as in 'we haven't found the stolen paintings yet' and you want to remind me of our failure?"

"Yeah, something like that." chuckled the detective. _Of course the Neanderthal would think that_.

"So, what _is_ going on with the case. Anything?" asked Steve as he set the coloring book aside and refocused on his friend.

"Nope, other than solving quite a few of the DEA's cases for them, we haven't found anything of use for our own."

"You will." said Steve. "You and the team will figure out where the paintings are and recover them." he said confidently.

"You mean 'we' will recover the paintings." responded Danny.

"No offense, D, but if it's not soon, I don't know if I'm going to be around long enough to do that." said Steve.

Startled at the response, Danny took it as a joke, asking, "Feeling a little down are we?"

Steve only smiled as though he'd meant it as a joke but Danny could tell there was something other than mirth in his eyes.

…..

It was over quickly. Everything went like clockwork.

Their informant had said Junichi and Hisao were being moved this morning from the jail to an unknown location.

It had finally occurred to someone that the Yakuza henchmen should also be under protection. They hadn't broken yet but surely the crime organization would make sure they never would. It was decided that it would be best to hold them at Halawa in isolation. Watched by guards whose backgrounds had been thoroughly checked for any connection to the Yakuza, they had a better chance of making it to trial than if they'd been held in the county lock-up. There was far too much possibility that jail personnel could be part of the Yakuza's vast network of informants.

Three uniformed HPD officers looked around warily as they ushered the handcuffed men to the waiting van displaying the small logo of the State of Hawaii's Penal system on its doors. The paperwork authorizing transfer of custody was signed and the two were locked into the cage in the back of the vehicle while one of the officers climbed into the passenger seat beside the driver.

With a loud tap on the back of the van to signal the men were secured and a brief wave from the driver wearing the uniform of a Halava Prison correctional officer, the vehicle was slowly driven away from the jail's rear entrance and down the alleyway. The two officers stood watching it until it was out of sight.

That's the last time any police official saw the prisoners alive.

…..

They'd spent their visit talking of times past. While he wheeled his friend around the hospital corridors and then eventually out to the canopy and plant shaded quadrangle, Danny regaled him with stories of his nearly misspent youth growing up in New Jersey. There'd been a fine drizzle most of the morning but, as is the capricious nature of the weather here, the sun had broken through the clouds to pour its light onto the wet surfaces below, making them sparkle with light before its warmth evaporated the moisture to return it to the atmosphere.

Enjoying each others company, the stories had turned to reminiscences of Danny being a rookie Newark PD cop and Steve being a midshipman at the Naval Academy when the blonde noticed that his friend appeared to be flagging.

"Babe," said the detective, "I think it's time to get you back before Tina comes looking for us. I don't think it will be a very pleasant experience for either of us if that happens."

"You may be right but I'd like to stay out a while longer. Being cooped up in a hospital room isn't all it's cracked up to be." said Steve trying to muster as much energy as possible to sound convincing.

"Okay then." agreed Danny. How could he deny his friend this temporary, if limited, freedom from his prison cell of a hospital room? Despite his attempt at appearing cheerful and entertaining Steve with stories and anecdotes, there a was sadness that sat like a stone in his chest.

Finding a spot that was relatively dry under a large market umbrella, Danny parked the wheelchair and sat down in one of the mesh chairs he pulled out from the table. They sat there in silence for a long moment before Steve suddenly declared, "Danny, we need to talk."

Those words drove a spike of ice into the detective's gut. He knew it had been coming.

"We've been talking for hours, babe. Even _I'm_ getting tired of hearing my voice." lamely replied the blonde. He really didn't want to do this.

"Danny, I'm tired. I'm so, so, tired." sighed Steve, looking off into the middle distance before returning his gaze to his partner's face.

"I know babe. I know you're tired but to quote the motto you learned in SEAL school, 'The only hard day was yesterday'." Though he'd said it halfway jokingly, the statement was as serious as a tax audit.

"Of course that's the only thing you'd remember of all the stuff I've told you about SEAL training." snorted Steve.

"It's probably the only thing worth remembering." countered Danny.

If Danny had to put a name to his friend's current expression, it would be 'resignation' as hazel eyes bored into his. "I think maybe it's time to acknowledge the obvious." said Steve, before scrubbing his hands over his face then letting them drop to his lap.

"Steve, you can't mean . . ."

"Why? Why can't I?" challenged Steve, his voice rising in agitation, "Why can't we all just face it? I've never backed down from the truth. Now wouldn't be a good time to change that. It's just too important."

"Steven, you still have another two treatments to go. There's still a good chance this will turn around." said Danny trying to keep from pleading.

"D, nothing's gotten any better. Surely, you can see that? Tell me that I look better. Tell me that I look healthier than I did the last time you saw me. I can barely walk ten feet before I have to stop and rest."

"Steve, I've never known you to give up. If someone was to ask me how I'd describe you, I'd say you're a man who never gives up. You fight until you win."

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'm going to win this one." Steve said, as clouds once again took their place between the earth and the sun; suddenly dimming the light.

In only another minute, as Danny tried to come up with words to implore his friend to hang on to life, the darkened sky began to leak its tears once more onto the landscape. Danny hoped it wasn't some sort of omen.

….

After much discussion, Doctors Fanning and Shan decided to hold off the drug for at least one round; leaving a gap of four extra days before the next infusion. It had gotten much too rough on their patient's increasingly frail body; his kidneys weren't maintaining as well as they'd hoped.

Tina would come in every few minutes to check on him. She'd reattach the pulse ox and put the nasal cannula back in place. He was too miserable to complain. Later in the day, she attempted to get him to eat but, of course, if he couldn't eat before, there's no way he could manage to do so now.

He lay looking out the window at the day nearing its end while Tina fiddled again with the bag of PPN solution. The nutrients his body needs are currently being administered via a new IV established at the crook of his arm. Though it could present problems of its own, the doctors decided to go with it rather than an NG tube for now. They'd explained to him that, because of his compromised immune system, there was a greater risk of infection using an IV line rather than a nasogastric tube so the PPN was only a temporary measure. They also didn't want to cause another nosebleed. Until his platelets were up, they were afraid to start one that wouldn't stop without a lot of extra measures.

He should be thankful. He'd had NG tubes before and the process of placing one isn't pleasant. Years ago when he'd spent some time in a hospital after an op had sideways, one of the other patients in the bed next to his has referred to it as a 'gaginoscopy'. He'd laughed then but it wasn't all that funny.

Closing his eyes, he could hear her still bustling about. Maybe she'd leave him alone. Tina had to know he didn't feel like talking but, before this was over, he'd have to thank her. He'd have to make sure she knew how much he appreciated her care; how much he appreciated everyone's care.

"Steven, honey. You want me to get you some water?" she asked from somewhere behind him.

"No. 'Mm fine." he said without opening his eyes.

He felt her hand on his arm. She patted him comfortingly and said, "One of your other friends is going to stop by later. I think it's Lori this time."

Sticking around another few minutes, perhaps only to assess his state of mind rather than his physical health, she announced, "Dr. Shan said he's going to be in meetings all afternoon and won't be able to see you until tomorrow so he said to tell that, from the latest tests, it looks like your kidneys are still holding their own; you had us all worried about that right one but so far, so good."

"Tha's good." he murmured still not opening his eyes in order to feign sleep. He _really_ didn't feel like talking. It took too much energy and there was nothing to say anyway. He'd have to save his energy for other things.

When the nurse finally left the room, his thoughts drifted to something that would have to be dealt with sooner or later. _Should Mary get the house or should it be sold and_ _some of the proceeds be put into a trust for Joanie or should_ _Mary just_ _be given the money?_ Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea for her to get all the proceeds at one time. In the past, she'd never shown any skill in handling anything to do with her finances and now she'd have to deal with her brother's death. Lately, she'd been doing really well with Joanie. He'd told his ohana not to contact her unless it was absolutely necessary. His sister always had a really hard time handling things like this. Aunt Deb's death had almost set her back. _Who'_ _s going to_ _look out for her?_ She hadn't mentioned dating anyone since she'd adopted the baby. Maybe she'd finally matured. He hoped, if she chose to date, she'd be a better judge of character than in the past now that she had a kid to think about. _Boy, some of those guys were assholes. Mary could really pick'em._

 _What about Doris?_ Good question. His feelings about his mother were still so conflicted that even thinking of her gave him a headache. _I'll have to think about that later_ , he decided.

Then, there was all the stuff that needed to be gotten rid of. Some of his dad's things were still stacked in boxes in the attic and in closets here and there. There was so much of it he'd never had the time to go through it all.

As a sort of morbid counting of sheep, he lay mentally sorting his belongings. In his mind, he slowly made his way from room to room in the house by the sea, picturing every item of its contents. _How did I collect so much stuff?_ he wondered.

He'd always traveled light. Moving around so much made it a necessity. _Maybe it's what normally happens when you stay in one place long enough?_ Objects had slowly collected like the people who'd randomly made their way into his life. Many of them had become family. _Who knew?_

When the mental inventorying arrived at the kitchen, he sorted through the pots and pans and dishware before he remembered the small box in the junk drawer. _Should_ _I_ _ask someone to send it to Cath?_ He kind of wanted her to have it but maybe the gesture would be cruel. The hurt she'd caused by leaving would remain with him until he took his last breath but anger served no purpose. If he knows anything, it's that he'll love her until he dies and then, if there is a hereafter, he'll continue to do so beyond any merely earthly presence. There was a strange feeling of comfort at the thought.

With renewed purpose, he continued his virtual sorting of the kitchen stuff and then he made his way out the kitchen door to the garage. What should happen to the Marquis? He smiled to himself with the thought that he should leave it to Danny. He could just hear him now . . . _'He left me what!?'_

Still smiling softly, his eyes drifted closed as his breathing evened out. The sky, as though trying to entice him to open them again, fanned its plumage like a heavenly bird to display a cobalt sky behind billows of clouds edged in glowing filigree. Below the lavender and purple floes feathery drifts of pink and mauve floated above a band of fire sprawled over an ocean echoing the chaos above in glittering shards.

The sky had tried its best but to no avail. The man in the bed slept on.

…

She'd gotten a message from her handler. It was cryptic as pretty much everything is these days. Shivering in her parka, she had to try a couple of times before her fingers punched in the number correctly. It rang twice before an unfamiliar voice answered.

"Catherine?" it asked.

"Who is this?" she demanded, there was no time for games. The shipment would be at the port in Murmansk in two hours. If they didn't get there on time, twenty girls would be doomed to a life with strangers who'd purchased them online the way one buys a piece of clothing. Pick a look, a size and a color and it's yours as soon as payment is received.

"This is Lori Weston." answered the voice.

"Who?" she interrupted, now totally mystified.

"I'm Steve's friend. We used to work together."

Was this the woman she only vaguely remembered meeting that one time? The one who'd been canned by the governor? Steve had said they heard from her every once in awhile. Why would she be calling?"

"Catherine, I know you and Steve aren't together anymore but I think you need to know that he's in the hospital."

"What's wrong?!" she asked, her stomach clenching and heat beginning to prickle skin that was so cold only moments before.

"He's really sick and . . . and, um, I think that it would help him if he could see you." That last part was said rather rapidly as though it was difficult for the woman to get out.

"What's wrong with Steve? He's going to be okay, right?" she asked. As she waited for the woman's answer, her chest began to tighten until it was actually becoming hard to breathe.

"He, umm, he might not make it. He has something called aplastic anemia. There've been treatments but he seems to be going downhill. If you want to see him before um, before . . ."

Lori's voice trailed off. She didn't have to complete the sentence

"I'll be there as soon as I can." she answered. "I have something that needs to be finished before I can leave. I'm sorry. Please, could you tell Steve I'll be there. Can you tell him to wait for me? Please?"

"Sure, I can do that." replied Weston maybe a bit brusquely. Then, voice softening to a near whisper, she said, "Catherine I don't know if he can hear me now. He kind of drifts in and out. Don't take too long."

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 ** _Makama'i_ is a very loose translation meaning 'to watch die or fade away'. Feel free to correct me if needed. Can't recall where I got it from but it was in my notes for this story.**

 **Let me know how'm doin'. Your feedback can only make this a better story.**


	31. No Questions Asked

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 31

 **Here's another one almost on time. You guys floored me with your response to the previous chapter. Thank you!**

 **Special thanks to Cokie316 for her help in keeping this from straying too far from canon and to Softballchic34 for reminding me about a missing character.**

 **Note: I've only ever written one deathfic and it had warnings plastered all over it. If you'll notice, there's no warning on this story so those of you who were beginning to freak can relax. Sorry I worried you.**

 **SPNGran again betaed the first draft and then Imaginary Beta took her shot at the second. The remaining, (and inevitable), mistakes are hers.**

 **Disclaimer: Still don't get paid for this. Life still isn't fair and neither is it a box of chocolates. It's more like a bowl of M &M's that some evil bastard contaminated with Skittles.**

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No Questions Asked

Including a stop in Moscow, the flight from Murmansk to Tokyo had taken seventeen hours. From there, she'd gotten a flight out of Narita Airport to Honolulu International which added another seven hours. She'd been traveling for over twenty-four hours and every minute of those hours had been filled with thoughts of Steve.

She thought of his fierce loyalty to country and family and of the disarmingly sweet nature that lay beneath that fierceness. A nature kept hidden from all but those he truly trusted. She thought of the smile that always prompted one in kind from her even if his was given to distract her from her anger. Of course there was never much anger between them; issues were resolved without any of the fireworks displayed by other couples in the heat of battle. Their fireworks and heat were of another sort.

Despite nearly perfect compatibility, their time together wasn't always hearts and flowers. Steve wasn't always the most overtly romantic of partners which could mean anything from forgetting Valentine's Day to thinking that eating take-out while sitting in his pick-up and listening to eighties rock was a romantic meal. There'd been few flowers to mark birthdays and special occasions but hearts were another matter. He'd given his to her long ago. It was strong and true and had beat only for her in their decade long relationship. Then, she'd broken it.

When she'd returned from Afghanistan for Kono's wedding and had seen him wading out of the surf onto the beach behind his house, she thought him the most beautiful creature to have ever emerged from the sea. Rolling over her like the waves themselves was the desire to be enclosed in those arms; to feel that strength, that protection – a desire provoked by no other man before or since.

When he'd said he couldn't wait for her if she left again, she'd been plunged to the bottom of a well so dark and deep the only thing she could do was wall off emotion and throw herself into her job. She'd had her heart broken that day as well but it was her own fault. He'd barely raised his voice. There was no overt anger, no yelling. She wished he had given into expressing what he must surely have felt. Anger would have made their parting easier - for her at least.

That day on his front porch was the last time they'd seen one another. As the SUV had sped her away she couldn't bear to look behind her. She'd see his hurt and would have demanded the vehicle be turned around. Maybe someday she'd be able to tell him why she left.

Despite immersing herself in an op where any minor mistake could mean death to others as well as herself; thoughts of what she'd done haunted her whenever she lay her head down to sleep. Steve had been abandoned by so many others in his life and now she too had abandoned him.

…

He'd been dreaming. The wind had picked up and sand was everywhere. Even though he wore goggles and covered his face with a scarf, the fine particles seemed to make their way into his every pore. It even felt as though grit was trapped between his joints as the ends of his bones ground against one another. He'd try to ignore it. Catherine was supposed to meet him here and she was late. Maybe the Taliban had discovered where she'd been hiding.

As the gusts blew ever stronger and he was about to give up waiting and go search for her, suddenly she appeared. She wore no protective clothing or gear and her long dark hair whipped wildly about as she smiled and reached toward him. The abrasive barrage of silica that blasted against her porcelain skin didn't seem to faze her.

He extended his hand to grasp hers but their fingertips couldn't quite reach. They strained toward one another while sand engulfed them, nearly blinding him and clogging his throat. They were engulfed in rolling billows of it that snatched them up like toys and tossed them into the surging air. He called out for her but she'd disappeared into the swirling yellow mass.

…

Not knowing whether to be glad or not to see the Camaro parked at the curb when she emerged from the terminal, she halted in her tracks. Danny stood with his rump leaning against the fender and his arms crossed over his chest. There was no welcoming smile.

Taking a deep breath and marching up to him she asked, "How's Steve! Is he okay?"

His succinct answer: "He's hanging in there". He took her duffle from her and threw it into the back seat. "Get in." he ordered as he went around to the driver's side to slide behind the wheel.

She wordlessly complied. Her friend . . . no, make that Steve's friend, is definitely keeping his emotional distance but she can't blame him. She'd betrayed Danny as well.

As they drove directly to Queens Medical Center her questions about her former lover's health were answered in the briefest way. She'd learned that despite being given a new drug, there'd been no significant improvement and the drug itself had become a problem. It's administration had been temporarily suspended in order for Steve to regain some strength.

Danny clinically stated that Steve's only hope for survival is the experimental drug but its side effects have made him so sick his doctors are considering stopping it all together. If Steve doesn't rally at least somewhat in the next forty-eight hours, they'll stop treatment, make him as comfortable as possible, and let him go. The physicians feel there's no need to cause their patient's last days to be torturous ones.

Steve is dying and there may be nothing to be done that could prevent it. It felt as though she'd been kicked in the stomach.

But, she'd absorbed the information calmly and stoically. Maybe shock is preventing her from reacting. Maybe its shock that's keeping Danny, known for holding nothing back, so detached while his best friend is edging ever closer to death.

They continued on their journey in silence as the Camaro made its way through a misty gray morning. Not yet heavy enough to necessitate activating the wipers, moisture gathered on the windshield before sliding down its surface. After several more quiet minutes, Catherine's silent tears began to slide down her face as if to join them.

…..

Danny didn't ask her any questions nor did she offer any information regarding her activities in the time she'd been away. She understood his attitude. He surely felt she'd gone back on her word to him as well. After telling her that his friend was the best version of himself when she was around, he'd asked her if she intended to stay. Her answer had been, _'There's nothing I would like more.'_ It hadn't been a lie but she'd still left.

Grateful the fierce Jersey detective is such a loyal friend to the man she loves no matter the two's sometimes fractious relationship, she knows Danny is only trying to protect the one he calls a Neanderthal, an animal, or just plain crazy. Their bond is one of brothers and made stronger by the dangers they'd faced together. Steve would give his life to protect his friend. Danny would have Steve's back no matter what dangers he charged into. He always would. He's doing so now.

Arriving at Queens, he let her out of the car at the entrance and before driving off to find a parking spot said, "He's in room 602. Lori and Lou are with him. By the way, I found out you're still listed as Steve's next of kin along with me so I guess you can ask the doctors for information. They should give it to you."

Heart in her mouth, she entered the lobby, found the elevator, and pushed the button for the sixth floor. While waiting for it to reach its destination, she pondered why Steve hadn't changed his medical information. She wondered if it was intentional or just an oversight.

With stops to pick up and drop off passengers on other floors, the elevator finally reached the sixth. She quickly exited and hurried down the corridor in the direction to which the sign on the wall indicated rooms 600 thru 620 were to be found.

Finding 602, she paused a moment to gather herself before knocking softly on the door. It was opened by Lou Grover, his almost perpetually wrinkled brow unaltered as he motioned for her to come into the room. As she entered, Lori stood up from the chair beside the bed to walk toward her.

Motioning toward Lou, the profiler said, "We'll give you guys some time alone. He's more with it today than yesterday but he's still kind of in and out." She regarded her sadly before saying, "He might respond if you talk to him."

The two Five-0 teammates then left, closing the door behind them. Catherine turned toward the figure curled on his side in the narrow bed. Steve appeared to be asleep. She approached him slowly and quietly not wanting to disturb the rest he very likely needed. Coming closer, she nearly gasped aloud at his change in appearance. Rather than the tan muscled figure she'd left over a year ago, her former lover is now pale as a sheet of paper and nearly as thin.

"Oh, Steve." she softly cried out as tears once again flooded her eyes to course down her still wind-chapped cheeks. Gaze fixed on the man she'd loved with her entire being she realized that Steve indeed may be nearing the end.

….

Danny walked up to the tall black man and the slender blonde woman who stood speaking with one another outside the door of Steve's room. He realized they were giving Catherine time alone with him. Even though their opinions of the woman who'd abandoned their friend probably weren't good ones, they couldn't begrudge her that at least.

"Come on, let's go get a cup of coffee in the cafeteria." he announced as they looked up from their conversation. He gestured for the two to follow and they trailed wordlessly behind him toward the elevator bank.

"Anything change since I saw Steve last night?" asked Danny as he stirred a fourth packet of sugar into his coffee. The hospital's cafeteria was nearly empty at this hour. They pretty much had the place to themselves.

"He seems to be more stable", answered Lori. "I think that last transfusion has done him some good."

"Yeah, it will help for a while but the effects seem to be getting shorter and shorter." said Grover as he watched Danny turn his coffee into syrup.

"He opened his eyes and smiled at me when I asked him how he was feeling. That's something I guess." said Lori sadly.

"Look, we all know how brutal the treatment has been for him. I talked to his doctors . . . " Danny's voice trailed off without finishing. He stared into his cup as he mindlessly continued to row a teaspoon through it.

"Danny, finish what you were going to say." said Grover his gut tightening as he waited to hear what the unsaid might be.

"The docs are considering stopping treatment all together. They're thinking maybe it's time to let him go." said Danny, his voice catching on that last sentence before he cleared his throat and looked away.

His teammates faces showed their anguish at words that floated on the air like an echoing gunshot.

…

The captain knew he was in trouble. The schooner's ancient wooden hull had sprung a leak and the eighty-five foot vessel had begun to take on water. Even though its usual cargo these days are pseudo-adventurers who fancy themselves seafarers as opposed to accountants and yoga instructors, the Jezebel's old life was catching up to her. After having spent so many years ferrying granite, stone, and cement to the smaller ports with only shallow draft access, the old girl, like an overworked dray horse, was tired. They'd had to turn back to Honolulu Harbor for repairs.

The sailing ship's leather-skinned captain sighed loudly as he inspected the hold once again. He's dreading the call he has to make; the one informing Nozaki that his shipment is going to be delayed - again. The repairs are actually complete but now the fucking port authority is preventing their second departure. After all that hullabaloo over stolen artwork and the fact that a couple of commercial freighters had been busted for hauling drugs, authorities were even more vigilant than usual with smaller vessels.

He should have known better than to hire on that stupid kid as part of his crew but he's the son of a friend. The little dickhead who'd proven time and again that he possessed all the smarts of your average houseplant had been busted with a full key of weed and way too much meth for just personal use. When they'd found out he works as a crewman on a schooner the cops had crawled over the Jezebel like an army of uniformed ants. Everyone on her had been interrogated but of course nothing came of it. Luckily, the latest crop of faux sailors, members of a Mormon glee club or something, were all straight as arrows. No one had so much as a joint on them. The cops had abandoned the raid in disappointment. No one had taken more than a cursory look at anything else after the drug sniffer dogs had given the boat a pass.

The paintings were sitting on the wharf amid several small crates labeled as marine maintenance products and mechanical parts. They'd had to unload the damn things in a hurry before they were submersed in the seawater sloshing around in the hold. Even though the inner containers were supposedly watertight, he didn't want to test that theory with several millions of dollars worth of fucking Picasso's or whatever.

As he gathered himself to make his phone call, his thoughts returned to the cause of this predicament. He hopes that little shit rots in jail.

…...

Danny's phone rang startling the three at the table. Each of them had been lost in thought contemplating the man who is the heart of their ohana.

Checking the screen of his phone, Danny greeted the caller, "Chin, what's going on?" There was a rather long pause as he listened while occasionally interjecting words like, "Uh huh, Yeah," then finally, "Shit." declared Danny to the unseen Hawaiian cop. "We'll be there in twenty. Gotta take care of something first. There's really no giant rush if the guys are already dead and the CSI's are already on the scene. Meet you there."

With that, the blonde detective tossed his phone none to gently onto the table top and, in his usual sign of frustration, ran his hands alongside his head to smooth back his already perfect hair.

"What's up?" asked Grover, brow again wrinkling like a Sharpei's.

"They just found the bodies of our little Yakuza friends and the two guards transferring them from Honolulu County to Halawa."

"What happened?" asked Lori, her own eyebrows following the lead of Grover's as they bunched over her nose.

"Looks like an accident so far according to HPD." answered Danny.

"Yeah sure, and my Aunt Ruby is gonna be on the cover of the next swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated." snorted Grover.

"Lori, you stay here with Steve and Catherine. Steve's sister Mary is coming in tonight on a red-eye from L.A. I know Steve didn't want to stress her out but it's time she knows what's going on with him. We might need you to pick her up from the airport if you don't mind hanging around that late."

"No worries, I'll handle it." replied Lori, removing the teabag from a steaming styrofoam cup before putting the back lid on it.

"Lou, let's go see what we can find out. If it was an accident, you'll need to tell your aunt to gear up." quipped Danny, actually happy to have the distraction.

"You'd maybe better hope it wasn't an accident cuz you ain't seen Aunt Ruby. The woman's got a face like a bulldog's nutsa. . . behind." quickly amended the ex-SWAT captain, remembering he was in the presence of a lady - one who could blow your ass to Hell with an RPG - but a lady nonetheless.

The three parted company; Lori to return to room 602 and a most likely upset Catherine, and Danny and Lou to investigate this latest turn of events in their never-ending art theft case.

Today is turning out to be one miserable fucking day.

…..

The four bodies had been found at the bottom of the ravine off of the transition road leading to Halawa Prison. It looked as though the prison van had missed negotiating the rather sharp curve and had broken through the guard rail to tumble downward then burst into flames.

The badge still pinned to what was left of the charred clothing on the remains of the jail guard and the still manacled bodies of the prisoners made the tentative ID of the HPD officer and the two Yakuza gang members fairly easy. The fourth body, that of the driver from the prison, was not as easily identifiable and would have to be forensically confirmed. There wasn't much left of him.

It looked like an accident to be sure but the Five-0 team highly doubted it. The deaths of the two uncooperative witnesses was much too convenient. Someone was obviously worried they would talk.

Kono had arrived on scene first followed less than five minutes later by Chin, then Danny and Lou. The four watched the burnt-out prison van being winched back up the side of the shallow ravine. After the CSI's had taken photos and bagged whatever they thought may be evidence, they were free to inspect what was left. The bodies had already been removed and carted off for Max to begin his work.

"This can't have been an accident." said Kono.

"Not very likely." agreed Chin.

"It has to be Nozaki behind this. We'd better double down on the security for our remaining witness." stated Danny. Pressing his lips together in a thin line he watched the creaking, groaning, vehicle at the end of the wrecker's cable finally make its appearance. Pieces of charred rubber flapped off it's wheels as it was pulled away from the crumbling edge of the ravine to come to rest on a less vertical surface.

"Just another thing we can't prove." glumly announced Lou Grover, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head back and forth at the grim sight.

"Yet." said Danny. "We can't prove anything yet but I'm gonna make sure this guy goes down. Steve provided the preliminaries. Now we need to make good on his work."

He didn't state the obvious. His goal is to wrap up the case before Steve dies.

…..…..…..

She watched his face scrunch up as though in pain right before he began to weakly flail his arms. She knew he was having a nightmare.

Taking his hand, she soothed him as she had many times in their past, saying, "It's okay Steve. You're just dreaming. I'm here."

She stroked his hair back from his forehead. His skin is clammy, his hands like ice. She stood murmuring her reassurances as his brow relaxed and his face smoothed into serenity.

She heard the door open behind her and then felt a hand on her shoulder. "Danny and Lou had to go check on a case. I'll be here if you need anything." said Lori Weston.

She turned toward the woman she barely knew and saw a look of deep sadness. She sensed the woman could relate to feelings of helplessness and regret. Clearing her throat, "Thank you." Catherine responded. "I really appreciate it."

The two took seats beside the bed. One of them unknowingly having more in common with the woman beside her than mere sadness. Each were keeping watch over a man they loved.

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 **Yes, I know it's depressing right now but that's about to change in the next chapter. Just hang in there.**

 **Your comments would be appreciated.**


	32. Arrivals and Departures

Chapter 32

 **I know this is bit late, (well, a lot late), but it's long. RL has been doing its best to thwart any plans I had to sit down and write. A 'yuge' thank you to all those who commented on the previous chapter. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.**

 **Can't say that this is a happy outing but least there's a reunion for those of you hoping for one. Not sure yet how these relationships will resolve. If you have any opinions on the matter, feel free to share. Your input is always welcome.**

 **SPNGran did her thing then, of course, I did the thing I wasn't supposed to and changed stuff around. OCD – you can't kill it with a stick. Imaginary Beta has sole responsibility for any remaining errors.**

 **Disclaimer: Doing this for free has its advantages. One can argue with the boss without there being any serious consequences, (unless people hear you doing so, then it's medication time).**

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Arrivals and Departures

Fanning had won the argument. They were going to continue with the drug. Even before their patient's next to last infusion his colleague, Dr. Shan, had wanted to throw in the towel and stop treatment. Tom Fanning had dug in his heels and argued to keep going despite his patient's latest test results. Perhaps it's not even logical to hope for a cure or remission but he wasn't going to give up on the deathly ill man who's still hanging in there – if only by a thread.

Fanning was actually surprised that his friend/adversary seemed to have more concern for their patient than their study. Rather than pushing to complete it he'd said there was no need to put McGarrett through more torture for nothing. Perhaps Lloyd Shan is human after all. Who knew?

Because of the painful side effects of the still experimental drug, some of their other patients had actually stopped treatment or opted to go the more traditional route though their odds of beating the anemia wouldn't improve.

McGarrett hadn't flagged in his determination to see it through. Despite everything, he's still fighting. So, even though the additional blood transfusions and pain medication may mess with the stats, his doctors are going to do whatever they can to help him get through this. Screw the protocols.

There was no longer any delay between the initial infusion and the immediate onset of its agonizing side effects. They'd given the commander extra time between treatments before administering the next-to-final round two days ago and had been keeping him drugged since then. It was easier on him to be pretty much sedated for the two days after treatment rather than have him waste energy battling pain.

Detective Williams had mentioned that McGarrett's girlfriend would be coming to visit and perhaps that would give the man even more encouragement to fight on. The bespectacled hematologist wondered where the woman had been all this time. Hadn't she thought it important enough to be here? He wasn't usually so curious about his patient's lives but McGarrett had impressed him in so many ways. In any case, it's too bad she'd be seeing her boyfriend in this condition after being apart for so long.

….

Steve tossed and turned for the next two hours. Visited by nightmares that make him cry out, either in fright, pain, or anger she can't tell; but each time she's there to speak to him softly and stroke his forehead. Each time he calms and stills as the lines on his face smooth and he relaxes into deeper sleep. Over the years, they'd both suffered these reminders of harrowing times past and had taken turns; one soothing the other. This time it's her turn.

Lori, who'd remained in her chair next to the bed though she felt like a voyeur witnessing something sadly intimate was startled when her phone vibrated against her hip. She'd turned the ringer off as soon as she'd entered Steve's room this morning. Slipping it from her pocket, she saw Danny's ID pop-up. She hopes he has a task for her because there's the strong need to get away from here for awhile.

Catherine hears Lori's quiet conversation next to her where she's just retaken her seat after calming Steve one more time.

"Sure. No problem, Danny. I'd be happy to. Outside of baggage claim? Right."

The profiler slipped her phone back into her pocket as she stood to address the dark-haired woman. "Sorry, Catherine, but I have to leave. Steve's sister will be arriving at Honolulu International in about twenty minutes and Danny asked me to go pick her up. I'll fill her in on Steve's condition and bring her here if she's up to it. If not, I'll probably drop her off at his house. Danny said she sounded pretty wrecked but if she's okay to be by herself, I mqy come back here. If I don't, I'll make sure you have transportation to wherever you're going to stay while you're here."

Catherine nods. Despite being exhausted, she'll probably stay with Steve for the night unless they throw her out. She's met Mary McGarrett many times and while the woman is a nice person and has pretty much gotten it together since adopting her daughter, she's not exactly the coolest under pressure. In the past, if Steve had been injured, he'd told the team not to contact his sister unless absolutely necessary because she'd just stress out and it wouldn't help matters. As with all those he cared about, their needs came first.

To Lori's surprise, Catherine stood to face her; then hesitating only a second, leaned in to embrace her warmly. "Thanks so much for watching over Steve for me. I . . . I know you're a good friend to him and you've been kind to me despite what the rest of the team may feel and I appreciate it. He's so lucky to have you here to support him."

Lori mumbled, "No problem. Glad I could help." Turning to leave, she barely managed to get through the door before her tears start to fall. She doesn't even know who she's crying for: Steve, Catherine . . . herself.

…

An hour or so later, Catherine hears Steve moan and she once again goes to him. Leaning over the restless man she strokes his forehead and down the side of his face. "Hey sailor", she whispers, "You just rest and get better for me okay?"

She doesn't expect him to hear her. He hadn't woken since she'd arrived nearly three hours ago despite his caregivers coming into the room to check on him. He scrunches up his face as though he's trying really hard to concentrate right before confused hazel eyes open to blink up at her.

He continues to blink and frown as though trying to reconcile what he's seeing. As his vision clears, startled recognition and something else comes over his face. "Catherine?" he asks, his voice a raspy whisper.

"Yes, it's me." she answers. "How do you feel?"

He reaches toward her with a shaky hand and she takes it into hers. Its cold and she folds her other hand over it trying to share some of her warmth.

"Catherine." He says her name again as though to confirm to himself that she's actually standing there. Still blinking up at her his eyes suddenly fill with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." he murmurs barely loud enough to hear.

"Steve, what are you sorry for? I'm the one who's sorry." she says, her voice breaking.

"I didn' want you t'come back 'cause you thought you had to 'cause 'm sick."

"Of course I had to come back, Steve. I have to make sure you're going to get better."

He continued to stare at her as though trying to confirm she's really there beside him. A tear trailed toward his pillow and she reached to wipe it gently away.

"Don't cry, sweetheart, please don't cry. You're only going to have me start too." she implored, her own eyes pooling with moisture.

"Not cryin'", he rasped out.

She wiped at her own eyes and said, "Okay, you're not crying and neither am I." she sniffed.

He reached up with a shaking hand to caress the side of her face, his fingertips trailing over her cheek to gently brush at the wetness.

Throat tightening until it hurt she managed to ask, "You want some water?"

"Mm." he responded without taking his gaze off her face as though he needed to memorize it before she disappeared.

She turned to pick up the pitcher beside the bed and poured a small amount of lukewarm water into the cup next to it. He'd somehow found the remote for the bed and raised the head of it; still without taking his eyes away from her. She brought the straw to his lips and he took a few sips before he turned his head slightly away to indicate he'd had enough then continued lay there staring at her as though memorizing every atom.

Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out in a shaky exhale then asked, "Are you going to leave again?"

"Steve, why do you even ask that?" she says, surprised at the question; one she herself had been contemplating. "I just got here."

"Everybody leaves." he answered.

Once again, her heart breaks.

…

Lori pulled her rented Corvette to the curb near baggage claim. Mary had contacted her brother's partner as soon as the plane landed and Danny had phoned her a minute ago to tell her that Mary knew to meet her here.

"She sounds pretty rugged." warned Danny, "You might have to give her some heavy duty reassurance . . . if not heavy duty tranquilizers." he snorted.

"No problem, I'll handle it." replied Lori. She was feeling guilty for her faint resentment of being stuck with babysitter duty but, if it would help them all get through this, she was fine with it and maybe being away from Steve and Catherine would help with her own anxiety.

She'd never met Mary but had heard a couple of the others speak of her. It seems Steve's sister is nearly the exact opposite of her brother; vivacious rather than reserved and a bit flighty rather than focused. The profiler is curious about Mary Ann McGarrett.

After only five more minutes a petite harried looking woman in a short gauzy dress and platform sandals emerged from the terminal doors marked by the 'Baggage Claim' sign above them. As soon as she stepped outside the building, she dropped the handle of her pull-along suitcase and frantically rummaged through the purse slung over her shoulder. Ignoring the 'No-smoking within twenty feet of entrance' sign she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up; closing her eyes in relief she took a drag.

 _This_ _must_ _be Mary,_ smiled the profiler. The woman perfectly fits the description given her by Danny. He'd said, 'She's short, cute, and seriously stressed.' He'd said it with affection as though describing one of his own siblings.

Lori honked her horn and the smoker looked up.

"Mary McGarrett?" yelled Lori through the open window of the 'Vette.

"Yeah, that's me." Mary yelled back offering an uncertain smile.

"Get in. Danny Williams sent me to pick you up." She popped the lid of the car's trunk as Mary quickly stubbed out the remainder of her cigarette under her three-inch sole and pulled the rolling suitcase toward the car.

After fitting the bag into the small space and closing the trunk lid Mary quickly slid in into the passenger seat. "How's Steve?!" she immediately asked with a slight lisp, her voice quirkily scratchy as well.

"He's holding his own." answered Lori. She'd actually been prepared for the question. Danny had warned her the woman would most likely be stressed to the max. He also said that Mary is a McGarrett so, 'Don't try to sugarcoat anything or you'll be sorry'.

"Do you want to go directly to the hospital or do you want to go to . . . um Steve's house so you can freshen up first?" She knew it may be a stupid question considering how obviously worried the woman is.

Surprisingly, Mary's answer is, "Maybe it would be a good idea to chill a little before going to see him. I mean, he's only lying there in bed right? He's not going anywhere in the next couple of hours right?"

"Yeah. He's not going anywhere." Lori answered with a thin smile as she pulled the car away from the loading zone and onto the street leading out of the airport.

"I know how it looks." explained the frazzled woman, "I just need to, like you know, get my nerves under control before I go see him. I know my brother, he'll worry if he thinks I'm freakin' out."

Lori thinks but doesn't tell her that Steve may not even realize she's there but Mary's statement actually does make some sort of sense. It probably would bother the protective commander of Five-0 if he knows his sister is consumed with worry. Perhaps he should get used to it though because _everyone_ is worried at this point.

After Mary's assurances that she'll be okay and will catch a cab to the hospital in a couple of hours, Lori dropped her off at the McGarrett house. Giving Danny a call to tell him 'mission accomplished' she drove toward HQ to see if there was anything else she could help with. After such a long time apart, maybe Steve and Catherine should have time alone. That's what she tells herself.

…..

"Okay, Duke, I guess it's worth a shot." she hears Danny say as she enters the office. He, Chin, Kono, and Lou are all standing at the smart table, a map of Honolulu Harbor up on the big screen.

"Hey guys." she greets the group.

"How's Steve?" asks Kono immediately. It's the question everyone has on their minds.

"He was still asleep when I left. Catherine is with him."

There's no overt reaction to the news but Lori can see the subtle look of displeasure that inhabits every one of their expressions, even Chin's, the one hardest to read.

"Did anyone say anything about lightening up on the drugs that are keeping him under?" asked Lou. The hospital staff had become so used to the Five-0 team coming and going at all hours they'd given up trying to play coy with them. It was usually Tina who'd fill them in on any changes in her patient or the drugs given him.

"Tina said they stopped the heavy duty stuff." answered Danny for her, "They want to get him ready for the next infusion now that he's had some rest." Five-0's temporary leader had been regularly checking in with Steve's caregiver.

"So, they're going to go ahead with the treatment?" asked Lou Grover hopefully.

"Yeah, it's the last one anyway and they don't think he can feel any worse than he does now." sighed Danny.

"You got that right." murmured Kono who'd witnessed her friend struggle through the aftereffects several times now.

"What are they saying about his condition in general?" asked Chin.

"They said Steve's reached a plateau. He's not getting any better but he's not getting any worse. They've been keeping him so sedated because they needed him to rest. Being in pain was only stressing out his body even more and that wasn't helping." again answered Danny.

"Well, with that man, it's the only way they could've gotten him to rest anyway." said Grover.

Even if a bit faint, there were smiles all around at the mention of Steve's need to always be occupied – preferably with chases, battles and/or explosives.

"So, when are they planning on giving him the last infusion?" asked Lori.

"Day after tomorrow." answered Danny. Everyone gathered around him frowned in concern.

…..…..

The Jezebel's captain watched as the last of the small crates was stored in the now dry hold. If all went as planned, they should be getting underway within the next few hours. His conversation with Nozaki hadn't been a pleasant one but it had ended with the Oyabun being assured his paintings would be arriving in Tahiti within two weeks including a one day layover in Papeete for supplies. They'd arrive in New Zealand within another two where the shipment could be flown out of Auckland to Japan. Then, thank God, it would be someone else's headache. Because of the delay, he wouldn't even be stopping at Rarotonga along the way. Considering the iffy seaworthiness of his ship, he really didn't like to sail such a long distance without putting into port to inspect the hull. This whole thing had been a gigantic pain in the ass.

The Mormon glee club had found another adventure and wouldn't be part of the voyage. Apparently being on a ship suspected of hauling illegal drugs had freaked them out. Oh well. He didn't need their money anyway. What he'd get from Nozaki would tide him over until the westerlies picked up again next season. Maybe he'd even be able to overhaul the Jezebel. The old girl sure deserved it.

Though he'd be a crew member short, he wasn't going to miss that stupid kid. It's a good thing the little bastard had bailed right after those crates had been unloaded. At least he's too stupid to be suspicious that anything was amiss. There'd be no reason to be hauling paint and hull varnish when they'd be on the ocean where it couldn't be used and their next stop was a place that already stocked that stuff.

Despite all the romantic literature and films, captaining a fifty-five foot, two-masted, wood-hulled schooner isn't all that easy. Still, he's never been sorry he'd left Johannesburg when he did. Otherwise he'd still be stuck behind a desk for a miserable eight hours then go home to a wife whose beauty and agreeable temperament had long vanished and three brats who would never have appreciated his sacrifice to keep them fed. It's too bad they want nothing to do with him now that they're grown but c'est la vie.

The captain smiled. Next stop Papaeete where legions of long-haired, tan skinned, Tahitian beauties await. He'd even have the money to pay for them.

…

Tina glanced curiously at the dark-haired woman. The nurse was used to seeing a familiar set of faces there at her patient's bedside but this one is new. She sees that Steve is groggily awake and asks with a smile, "Who's your pretty friend, honey?" She smiles at Catherine as she says it.

"Still th'prettiest girl I ever met." said Steve, awake enough now to to say the words almost without slurring them.

Her patient still didn't look completely with it but he certainly sounds sincere thought Tina. "Your friend is indeed fine." the nurse replied in agreement as she smiled down at him.

Belatedly realizing good manners should prompt an introduction, he said, "Sorry, Tina. This's my . . . friend, Catherine."

"Turning his head he says, "Cath, this is Tina, she's been looking after me since I've been here."

"It's nice to meet you, Tina." says Catherine as she returns the nurse's smile. "Thank you for taking such good care of Steve."

"So, you're Cath." nodded the nurse to the dark-haired woman, beautiful despite looking as though she desperately needs some sleep.

"That's me." she smiled while wondering, _Has Steve been talking about me?_

"I've heard you say that name sometimes when you're dreaming." she said to Steve as she began her check of the IV line, the one that's used for the PPN solution.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in the bed; embarrassed that she'd even heard him let alone that she'd revealed it to Cath.

The nurse had no qualms at addressing her patient's friends so directly. Over the past several weeks, she'd come to know them nearly as well as her own family. Steven is lucky to have such caring people around him but his lovely friend had appeared at first startled at the revelation then, rather sad.

Tina said a mental, _Oops_ ; chastising herself for blurting out something that had possibly embarrassed her patient.

"Honey," she said, "I'm going to flush this line then set-up your PPN. Maybe you can try to eat something too. It's been a couple days since your infusion so maybe some juice or jello would be okay to try. This stuff really doesn't have much of a taste." she teased

"At least I don't have to worry about keeping it down." he said tiredly as Cath looked on with a frown. She wasn't aware that Steve hadn't been able to eat, though from his appearance, she should have realized that was a problem. He's thinner than she'd ever seen him.

"Maybe Catherine would rather go get a cup of coffee or something rather than sit here and watch me mix your cocktail before I put it in your IV. Sure looks like she could use some caffeine right now." said Tina as she winked at Catherine then went back to laying out the supplies needed to administer the nutrient solution.

Before Steve could answer for her, Catherine said, "You know, that sounds like a really good idea. If I'm going to be able to stay awake I'll have to have some caffeine to help me along. I'll see you in a few minutes, Steve."

""Kay." he agreed though looking a bit anxious at the prospect she'd be leaving the room.

As soon as the door closed Tina said, "Honey, I'm sorry if I let the cat outta the bag or anything. Sometimes I just let my mouth run away with my brain."

Steve smiled up at her. "Nah, that's okay, Tina. Catherine knows me well. I'm sure she's . . . it's a long story. _A_ _nd I don't know how it's going to end,_ he thought without saying it. "We um . . . we were together, sort of, for a lot of years. Cath's been out of the country for awhile. I'm surprised she came all this way to see me."

"You shouldn't be surprised." gently scolded Tina. "You have a lot of people who are pulling for you and would do anything they can to make sure you're okay."

"I'm grateful my friends are so awesome." said Steve. "But it's still kind of a shock Catherine came back to Hawaii to see me. We didn't part on the best of terms." Looking away he mumbled, "I thought she'd have moved on by now."

"Honey, I doubt that any woman in her right mind would move on from you. You are quite the catch I hear."

Steve snorted in disbelief, "Who the hell would say that? I look like something the cat wouldn't even bother to drag in."

"I wouldn't worry about people not finding you attractive." gently chided the nurse, "There's lotsa people willing to wait in line for a chance at you." Then, rolling her eyes she added, "mind you, not all of them are female but I know you and Detective Williams are used to that sort of attention."

"So, you've obviously heard those stupid rumors too." he shook his head before stopping because it made him a little dizzy. Sighing he said, "Well, maybe I should just be grateful that anyone finds me attractive at this point. I know I look as bad as I feel."

"When you're better, all this is gonna look different to you. I know that, right now, it probably doesn't feel like it but you'll see. Better times are comin'."

Steve looked at Tina with an uncertain smile, "God, I hope so 'cause this has not been fun."

"Steven, honey, with all the people you got pullin' for you there's no way this is going to turn out any way but good. Don't give up."

"You sound like Danny." he smiled.

"No need to insult me." she huffed, "You know that little man could talk the legs off a table."

…..

"So, um, how is he doing? Any better?" Catherine asked hopefully, having nearly bumped into the nurse as she exited Steve's room.

"His vitals have improved slightly, everything's pretty stable right now." cautiously answered Tina. She had no idea who this woman really is and how much information she should dispense.

Having noted the nurse's evaluation and subsequent reticence Catherine said, "Along with Detective Williams, I'm listed as Steve's next of kin. It should be okay to tell me whatever."

Still not willing to impart anything until she checks the commander's file for his next-of-kin info, Tina said, "Your friend is one of my all time favorite patients. Even though he's one of the more stubborn and sneakier ones."

Cath knew Steve would have probably smirked proudly at his nurse's description of him but said "Well, I know how stubborn he is but he doesn't look like he's in any shape to be very sneaky right now."

"Yeah, well as soon as he feels a little better, I'm sure he'll be up to his old tricks. At least I know what to expect now." she smiled.

"Yeah, I guess he's been here long enough for you to get to know him pretty well." replied Catherine sadly. "I . . . I'm just sorry I wasn't here to help him. We've missed so much time together and it's all my fault."

Tina watched sympathetically as the dark-haired woman's face began to crumble while trying mightily to sniff back her tears. Surprised at the outburst, however restrained, that was probably due to exhaustion, the nurse said gently, "Well, you're here now. I'm sure it will help him."

The long lost girlfriend nodded then composed herself, squared her shoulders and pushed open the door to return to the patient's room.

 _Poor thing's going to need all the help he can get,_ thought the nurse.

…

"Great!" exclaimed the kid as he slammed down the phone while the guard looked on and frowned at his prisoner's abuse of county equipment.

"You've had your phone call, kid. Time to go back to your cell." said the uniformed man.

Joshua Hanford rolled his eyes and stood up from the metal chair fastened to the concrete floor beneath him. This wasn't a good time for his father to act like . . . well, a father. He'd just been informed he wouldn't be bailed out of this one and that he needed to 'suffer the consequences of his actions.' _Bastard._

So what if he'd been caught with a key of pakalolo and a couple eight-balls of meth? He'd always fixed stuff like this before. It was just unfortunate that the last time he'd been rescued, his dad had found him a job on that leaky old tub with that creepy captain. His dad had told him 'No more chances, Joshy! This is it! Keep your ass out of trouble! I mean it!' _Blah, blah, blah._ Despite having been told that very thing several times in the past, his old man had never stuck to his words. _Why is he_ _doing_ _to it now_ _for fuck's sake_ _?_ Then, it suddenly began to sink in that maybe this time his father really did mean it and the eighteen-year-old failed drug dealer came to a startling conclusion: _SHIT! I'm screwed!_

As he's being led back down the corridor while cat calls and whistles come at him from every side, he's beginning to hyperventilate. When the jailer opens the metal door and he sees his new cell mate grinning at him in what may be a much too welcoming manner, he frantically turns to the jailer and says, "Hey! Wait! I um, I know something you guys might be interested in. Maybe we can work a deal?"

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 **This story is, of course, turning out longer than planned and there will probably be two more installments before it's complete. Would love to hear what you thought of this one.**


	33. That Which We Have Tamed

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 33

 **Here's a really long one to hopefully to make up for the delay in updating. RL, (aka out of town visitors), sucked up every waking moment. The Benjamin Franklin quote about guests and fish appears to be true.**

 **Thank you all for your comments, follows and favorites. They have never ceased to amaze me. A special thank you to sue2556 for her idea regarding Danny and Catherine.**

 **SPNGran once again proved to be invaluable in getting this chapter posted though Not-So-Ninja-Cat did her best to thwart the update by camping on the keyboard, (something about revenge for being displaced by humans who've overstayed their welcome).**

 **Disclaimer: Still doing this for fun rather than money – dammit!**

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That Which We Have Tamed

Finally alone, Catherine combed her fingers through dark hair flecked with occasional strands of grey. It's probably been a few weeks since it had last been cut and it had started to curl a little. He usually kept his hair close-cropped but she knew it wasn't any attempt at style, it was for convenience. Even if Steve didn't have time to run a comb through it, it wouldn't seem all that messy. Her former lover was always about efficiency. She smiled fondly down at him wishing he would keep it this length.

He lay quietly, eyes closed in bliss as he felt her fingertips card through his hair. They needed to talk but he didn't want to break the spell. Catherine is here, finally, after all the longing he tried to ignore and never gave voice to. After all the nights of lying alone wondering if she was safe; regretting ever having told her that if she left again, he couldn't wait for her. He'd long ago concluded it wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done but he'd been so hurt and angry. Even on the occasions when he'd tried to move on from their decade long relationship, no matter how pleasant the current company, he still missed her. He still felt alone.

They should be talking but he didn't want to interrupt this nearly rapturous interlude. Catherine is finally here beside him and he could breathe again. What's past is passed and a future together is a lot to hope for in the most basic of ways. He may not be around for it.

…...

The prisoner one Joshua (aka Joshie) Hanford, Lou Grover, and Five-0's temporary commander sat in the small interrogation room at the County jail. A can of Coca Cola and two note pads the only things on the table in front of them.

"It looked pretty suspicious to me, brah." said Joshie, former crew member on the Jezebel.

"How so?" asked Danny. He hoped Duke was right about this kid but he wasn't crossing his fingers.

"Well, for one thing, why would we be carrying paint for that piece of shit boat when all that stuff is supposedly available at the next port? That leaky old tub doesn't have any extra space to store stuff and we needed all the room we could make for supplies for that group we were supposed to be hauling around the Pacific. I mean, we were on our way to Tahiti where they already got all that stuff. It's just taking up space in the hold that could be used for supplies for the passengers."

"You said that the boat is used for adventure tours?" asked Lou.

"Yeah, some kinda churchy type people had it booked this time. I've never seen such tight-assed dweebs. I asked one of them if he wanted to smoke a blunt with me and the guy looked like I'd just thrown a snake at him! Sheesh."

Grover rolled his eyes at the kid's comments as Danny asked, "That's all you got? A boat is actually hauling boat supplies and someone insulted you by rejecting your offer of hospitality?"

"Nah, man. That's not all. When we were stowing the crates, I overheard that asshole captain say something like, (the kid lowering his voice in imitation), 'This is the last time I'm haulin' fuckin' Picassos!'

Both of the cops questioning him frowned. Joshie, seeing that he now had the interest of his interrogators asked, "That Picasso dude's a painter, right?"

…...

The soothing silence was abruptly broken when Mary entered the room – or make that burst in like Hurricane Iniki.

"Steve!" she cried out as she rushed forward. "How come you didn't tell me you're sick! I'd have come right away!"

"Hi to you too." smiled Steve tiredly as Catherine stepped away from the bed.

His overwrought sister barely slowing down, Mary rattled on: "You couldn't even pick-up the friggin' phone!? Danny was the one who had to call me to tell me my last living relative is in the friggin' hospital!"

"Mary, slow down okay? I'm alright." responded her brother. _But I'm definitely going to have a talk with my partner,_ he thought with annoyance.

"I'm your goddamn sister and the doctors wouldn't tell me anything!" she railed on, not even acknowledging that Catherine was in the room though she was standing only a couple feet away.

"It's good to see you but if you don't calm down, I'm not going to be the only one in a hospital bed!" Steve declared, taking another stab at calming his sister before she hyperventilated or had to go smoke a joint or something.

"Steve . . ." Mary began again, not slowing in the slightest and having every intention of letting her brother know exactly how she felt about not having been contacted sooner.

"Look, I didn't call you because there's nothing you can do and I knew that you'd have to either bring Joanie with you or find someone to take care of her while you're gone. I'd rather have the both of you together than have you desert her to get on a plane to come here. There's nothing you can do anyway and why should you disrupt your daughter's life for no reason?" Most of that statement was actually the truth.

"No reason?!" replied Mary, her eyes spitting fire and her complexion reddening. "Dammit Steve! Aunt Deb is gone and it's not like we have any extra family or anything! Did you want me to find out via a phone call from one of your team that you'd actually croaked and to come to Honolulu for your friggin' funeral!?"

"Mary, dammit! Calm down!" yelled Steve, too tired for his sister's drama. Raising his voice caused him to start coughing. After nearly a minute of sounding like he was about to hack up a lung, the spasm ended. He took his hand away from where he'd clamped it over his mouth and uttered an oath upon realizing he'd started another nosebleed as red droplets began to splat onto his hospital gown. "Dammit." he declared in frustration.

"Oh shit! Oh shit!" said Mary her eyes widening in alarm; practically wringing her hands in dismay.

Catherine, much calmer than Mary McGarrett but no less concerned asked,"Steve, what do you need? Is there anything I need to do?"

"It's no big deal. Can you see if Tina's out there at the nurse's station? The others will show up soon enough if I use the call button but Tina's the one who's fastest at getting it to stop."

Catherine immediately stepped out of the room to go look for the nurse. Mary stood there in shock as her brother grabbed up a wad of tissues from the box on the nightstand and pressed them against his face while thinking, _There was a reason_ _I_ _didn't want anyone to call_ _my_ _sister,_ _dammit_ _!_

….

The captain saw them coming down the long, wooden, dock. They were headed in his direction. Maybe they were here for the boat next to his – it was full of stoners.

Nope, they walked past it and continued down the planked walkway. He could see now that they aren't DEA. There's a really tall black man flanked by a smaller guy and two women, one blonde, one with dark hair. They were all wearing full tac.

Shit. This doesn't look good.

He clings to the possibility that they're here for the old couple in the cabin cruiser moored a few slips over. Maybe the aged, grey haired, hippies are former subversives from the sixties who've been hiding out all these years before finally having been discovered.

Nope. They walked right past it.

The intimidating quartet, continued past other boats toward the last slip at the end of the pier – the Jezebel's. _Now_ it's time to panic.

Already about to cast off, maybe he could make a run for it. Engaging the diesel engines that would get him away from the small boat marina and out of the harbor, he pulled away.

The four cops, now joined by several uniformed officers, reached the end of the pier where they stood calmly watching the Jezebel make a run for the open sea where her sails could be raised.

"Where does he think he's going?" rhetorically asked Lou Grover as with palms turned upward his hands asked the same.

"I can't believe he's that stupid." said Kono, hands on hips, watching the boat's agonizingly slow retreat toward the marina's entrance.

"Takes all kinds." said Lori with a deep frown.

"All kinds o' stupid." tsked Grover, shaking his head from side to side as he watched the comically slow escape attempt.

Two Coast Guard cutters immediately pulled alongside the Jezebel, their bullhorns blasting into the harbor air, "This is the United States Coast Guard! Stop your engines and prepare to be boarded!".

"Some people just gotta learn the hard way." observed Chin.

…..…...

"So, how you doin' today babe?" asked Danny as he entered the room and immediately plopped himself onto the chair recently vacated by Catherine. She'd taken Mary downstairs to the cafeteria to get a cup of tea. All the drama certainly wasn't doing her brother any good.

Steve looked back at him with amusement in his eyes and replied, "I'm trying to decide if I want to tell you I'm fine which I know annoys the crap out of you or just tell you the truth. I'm also trying to decide if I should ream you out for contacting my sister."

"First, why don't you just tell me how you're doing and I'll try not to, as you so nicely put it, smother you with concern." replied his partner. "Then, we can talk about your sister who I gather has just left?"

"She and Catherine went down to the cafeteria so Mary could calm down. Cath said something about a nice cup of herbal tea but I think what's more in order would be a tranquilizer dart."

"Sorry, babe, but you scared us enough with your last round of imitating buzzard chow that I thought I'd better call her."

Steve lost the amused expression and nodded. "I guess I should thank you then. If I'd croaked without her being able to see me before it happened, Mary would have dug up my body just to kick my ass."

Both men smiled though the situation itself is anything but funny.

"Cath said that Lori was the one who contacted her to let her know I was here. Guess you're right. I must've scared everyone this time."

"You could say that." replied Danny. "I told Weston to go ahead and see if she could track her down. I'm still totally pissed at that woman for what she did but, Lori was right. It was what we needed to do, for both your sakes."

"Thank you, Danny. I'll have to thank Lori too." Steve looked down at the light blanket covering him and began to pick at a loose thread at its bound edge. Danny had called Catherine 'that woman' rather than by her name. He hoped that his best friend and his, hopefully, reunited girlfriend could reach a place of peace with one another. "I um, I really missed her. I think she missed me too."

Danny _had_ come to the conclusion that Catherine deeply regretted leaving Steve in the lurch. Despite that, he still couldn't forget the fact that she'd broken his best friend's heart on more than one occasion. Of course Steve, ever Mr. Stoic, thought he was hiding his pain from his team but they could all see that he was hurting. He still pursued and apprehended bad guys with the same fierce intensity, but it seemed that spark within had deserted him along with his girlfriend.

They sat in silence for another moment before Steve spoke.

"You know, Danny, this is gonna be my last shot."

"Yeah, but we know it's going to work." his friend replied without hesitation,

Amusement returning to crinkle around his eyes, Steve chuckled, "Jeeze, I wish I had your confidence."

"Look, you've always been the most arrogant, _over_ -confident sonofabitch I'd ever met. Now, you've gotta take all that annoying energy and concentrate it on one place . . . you."

"Wait, I'm arrogant?" asked Steve with a frown.

Danny snorted derisively, "Yes, massively. You think that speed limits are challenges, that rules are for other people, and that the no hanging people off roofs rule is just a suggestion."

"There's no such rule!" said Steve.

Pinning his partner with his own version of the SEAL death glare, Danny went on. "It's time to use your superpowers for good, babe. You have to believe that you'll make it out of this because I do."

"Now, who's arrogant?" chuffed Steve.

"Fuck you." said Danny without any heat behind it.

Steve chuckled at the not unfamiliar response but then turned a serious gaze once again on his friend. "D, I'm all out of of superpowers. It's time to settle things up while I still have the energy to get it done."

"What do you mean? What's to settle?" asked Danny, realizing his friend is in no way joking.

"Who gets what when I . . . "

"You're not going to die Steven! Not unless I kill you myself!" exasperatedly exclaimed Danny. "Stop being such a drama queen!"

Steve only looked back at him with what could only be described as annoyance tempered with affection. After a long pause as the two locked eyes, he began, "One thing that you need to know is that I sincerely appreciate all you've done for me, Danny – all the care, all the advocating when I couldn't advocate for myself."

Danny once again began to interrupt but Steve held up a hand to stop him, "I need you to know I love you. You're the brother I never had," then pausing for half a beat, he smiled and added, "and maybe the mother too."

Danny's first thought was to give a smart-assed reply but first he had to pause to swallow the sudden lump in this throat which ached with one or maybe several of the emotions Steve had always chided him about. "Hey, don't think I'm gonna give you a pass just 'cause you're in the hurt locker right now." he managed to say, his voice somehow not working correctly as the last few words were uttered in a kind of choked squawk as his eyes began to burn.

Seeing his friend looked about to cry, Steve had a moment of near panic, "D, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . "

"Steven," interrupted his friend, "You aren't just someone I got stuck with through accident of birth. For whatever demented reason I've yet to figure out, I've considered you my brother for a long time now." He wiped at the one embarrassing tear that had escaped to slide down the side of his nose then added, "And I guess I should be glad we're _not_ related by blood 'cause then I'd be genetically predisposed to the insanity you've continually exhibited since I met you."

Steve started to chuckle but had to stop when it started to turn into a cough. "Just couldn't resist, huh?" he managed to say.

"Sorry babe," said his brother with a watery smile, "You're just too easy a target."

Waiting for the snark to settle, Steve carefully cleared his throat, "Danny, I need to ask you for something."

"Of course. Whatever you need, it's yours." responded his friend with utter sincerity.

Steve smiled at Danny's quick response but knew he might be asking for something his partner might not want to give.

"If this goes sideways and I don't make it, I don't want to be left with something on my conscience."

Brow knitting in question, Danny remained silent as he waited for his friend's request.

"I don't want to leave this world with two of the people I care about most being at odds with one another over me. I need you to forgive Catherine."

….

Martin yawned and stretched. It was almost time for breakfast to be delivered. He was beginning to hate himself for looking forward to the bacon and eggs, spam and eggs, sausage and eggs, steak and eggs or whatever culinary delight was wheeled into the room. At the very least this rattrap hotel's room service should offer eggs Florentine. He was soo craving Hollandaise right now.

But, strangely, the food that had most been on his mind the last couple of days is a chorizo burrito or maybe some of those chilaquilles that his friend's mom used to fix for him sometimes. The woman had realized that her son's little buddy seemed to be pretty much on his own and, when the kid was around, would make extra for him to eat.

It was one of the few pleasant things he remembered about growing up in Norwalk. Last he heard, his friend Ruben was some big shot civil rights lawyer. Good for him. It wasn't as glamorous as being an art thief but, considering his present circumstance, it was certainly a lot safer.

This is getting old. Having to hide out from Nozaki was seriously getting on his nerves. Yesterday, he'd been distressed to realize that he could actually follow the storylines of the soap operas on television. He could tell you who had an evil twin, who had a steamy affair with who and he could easily spot which aging actor had recently had a nip and tuck. He thought the Mexican soaps were the most entertaining. All those heaving bosoms and mysterious bedroom-eyed strangers were a hoot.

Caught up in daydreams of eggs sunny-side-up over corn tortillas fried with salsa, he didn't hear the door to the balcony slide open.

…...

Early this morning Danny had picked her up from the hospital and taken her to the McGarrett house so she could shower and change before they returned to be with Steve during the infusion. Mary, thanks to the request of her brother and a doctor administered anti-anxiety medication, was sleeping in.

The Jersey detective seemed not quite as cold as when he'd picked her up at the airport two days ago. Not warm, mind you, just not as frigid.

Being that Steve had continuous company for the past several days and nights, they wanted to give him some alone time. On the way back to Queens they stopped for breakfast at a cafe not far from there. She didn't know if it was a good thing or not to have opportunity to talk to the man who is, no doubt, still angry at her for lying to him as well as to his best friend.

The cafe seemed to be a popular spot. It had filled-up rather quickly with the breakfast crowd shortly after they'd arrived. She'd never before been to this retro style diner with its orange Formica tables and counter and booths of varying sizes. Rather than a crowd of people shod in flip-flops and wearing T-shirts and boardies, its customers should be women with poodle-cut hair and blood red lips accompanied by fedora wearing men who drove Oldsmobiles with whitewall tires.

Danny smiled at their server whose name, according to the stitching over her pocket is 'Mona'. She appeared to know him as well, saying, "Haven't seen you here in a while, detective. We missed you and the rest of your crew, especially your handsome friend." she winked.

That brought a chuckle from the blonde as he smiled up at her. "I'll be sure to tell him that."

"Tell him Mona says hi." she smiled, "Now, besides coffee what can I get for you folks?" The sturdy waitress stood pen poised over pad while waiting to hear their breakfast order.

Neither of them was all that hungry but food is probably a good idea right now considering they had no idea how long they'd have to be at the hospital with Steve. Each ordered an only light breakfast.

Danny laughed to himself as he stirred what had to be a fourth packet of sugar into his cup.

"What's funny?" asked Catherine.

"Steve has half the female population on this island all atwitter. We should find a way to bottle the Neanderthal's appeal. We could make a friggin' fortune." he chuckled.

She smiled, knowing what he meant. It had always been amusing to see the attention that Steve received from women. What amused her even further is that he barely seemed to notice the effect he had on them. Of course, he would use it to his advantage at times but never to stoke his ego. Doris had told her that 'Stevie' could charm females of any age since before he could even talk. Apparently, it's something that had never changed.

Mona eventually returned with their order and as she placed the hot stoneware plates on the table she remarked, "You know, your partner didn't look all that well the morning you enlisted me in your scheme to get him to eat something. Is he doing alright?"

"Steve's . . . okay." hedged Danny, "He's been in the hospital for a few days getting over a bug of some sort."

"A bug, yeah." said Mona disbelievingly as she automatically topped-up their coffee from a carafe that seemed to appear from nowhere.

"Tell you what, Mona, as soon as Steve's out of the hospital, I'll bring him here to eat some of that baked oatmeal so he can flirt with you." said Danny to the short stocky waitress.

"You got a deal, honey." she smiled.

After the smitten server walked away, Catherine asked, "So what time is the infusion?"

"It's scheduled for nine" Danny answered succinctly as he poked at his plate of scrambled eggs.

In only another hour and a half Steve was scheduled for his last infusion and they were both determined to be there with him. Last night, Tina had actually tried to talk her out of it, saying, "You don't want to see him like that, sweetie. He probably won't even realize you're there once the effects start. I'm sure he wouldn't want to put you through that."

Possibly to the nurse's surprise she'd replied, "I'm going to stay with him no matter what. If nothing else, I owe it to him. I wasn't here to support him when this all started but I'll be damned if I'm going to desert him now."

Coming back to the present and clearing her throat, Catherine said, "Steve told me they want him to be wide awake for it so he can experience every minute of what he called Hell?" she asked.

"Seems so." replied Danny, "I've 'suggested'" he said making air quotes, "That they just knock him out ahead of time rather than wait until he's actually screaming in pain but they won't do it."

Catherine's stomach clenched at the thought that Steve would be put through such misery . . . and that it was intentional. "Why can't they?" she asked, "Why do they need him to be awake for it?"

"It's part of their bullshit protocol that the patient be conscious so they can observe any _discomfort_ after they administer the drug: what kind, to what degree, and etcetera. If they haven't gotten the picture by now . . ." his words trailed off as he held a seemingly forgotten forkful of food suspended over his plate while he looked out the window; tight expression reflecting how he felt about the matter.

"Danny," began Catherine hesitantly, "I know you're pissed at me. I can't tell you why I left. I couldn't even tell Steve the truth but . . ." she halted her words as she was pinned by sky blue eyes.

"Do you know how much you hurt him?" he asked. "He wouldn't talk about it but I know for a fact that you broke the heart of someone who doesn't give it easily."

"I know." she said looking down at her plate of congealing eggs. "You have no idea how sorry I am. How badly I want to undo what I've done."

"He likes to think he's hiding it but, hell, we could all tell he was hurting." said Danny; an edge to his words.

"Danny, I want to make it up to him but I . . I don't know how I can stay if he doesn't want me to. We didn't get to talk about it last night because we had to deal with Mary. Do you think he'll forgive me? Do you think I can make it like the way it was before I left?"

"You can't unbreak something you've smashed to pieces, Catherine." said Danny bluntly.

Blinking back tears that began to pool in dark eyes, she asked, "Do you think I should even try to stay and patch it up? Would it do any good?"

"Remember that last time we talked and I told you about the effect you had on Steve? You said there's nothing you'd like better than to stay?"

She examined the stony face across the table from her to see if there was anger behind the words that now flew back in her face like wind-driven ice pellets.

"You said that he is his best self when I'm with him." she answered softly.

"There was a book I read when I was a kid. I didn't learn until later that it wasn't necessarily a children's book but that's neither here nor there." said Danny waving his hand dismissively. "Anyway, there's a part in it about a kid who's made friends with a fox. The fox winds-up saying, 'We are responsible forever for what we have tamed'."

Danny takes a sip of his cooling coffee then continues, "Sometimes when I'm annoyed with Steve I call him an animal and he's still pissed at me for calling him feral but _you_ are the one who tamed him Catherine. Keep the fox's words in mind when you make your decision about patching it up."

"I don't know how he'd ever even want me back." she blurted.

"That's something for you to find out. Steve himself told me once to just go for it; 'Just take the chance, Danny' he said. And I'll be damned if he wasn't right. If I hadn't followed his advice, Melissa and I would never have been together this long."

"Melissa? Aren't you still with Amber?" she asked, mostly as a way to pause while trying to regain some control.

"Long story" snorted the blonde.

"I want to, Danny, but how could he ever possibly trust me again? He's been hurt by so many other people he's put his trust in that didn't deserve it. I wasn't there when he went to Korea and Jenna traded him to Wo Fat in exchange for her fiance but it must have been so painful - and not just physically."

"But, he understood it." said Danny, "He understood why she did it and he couldn't hold that anger against her. In the time afterward, when he was recovering, I think it helped him to remember that she'd tried to make up for it . . . there at the end."

He suddenly realized what he'd said. It looked as though Catherine realized it as well. They looked across the table at one another with an almost unfathomable sadness. Those words could apply this time as well: 'there at the end'.

….

Dr. Lloyd Shan and Dr. Tom Fanning walked side-by-side down the hallway toward room 602 as the nurses and orderlies watched them pass. it was like watching Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday stride toward the O.K. Corral with stethoscopes dangling from pockets rather than six-shooters on their hips.

Today is the last infusion and by the looks on the doctor's faces, it was going to be grim. Shan had to admit, the guy is tougher than leather; coming back from the previous infusion much sooner and stronger than expected. But his patient's triumph may be short-lived because now it's time to torture him again.

Tina and the regular infusion nurse had already set-up what's needed. The picc line had already been flushed and was waiting for them to administer either the diluted or undiluted form of the drug. It had been one last bone of contention between the two physicians; Fanning wanted to dilute it in hope their patient's reaction wouldn't be quite as drastic while Shan contended that it really didn't matter because, either way, it was still going to be incredibly painful so they may as well get it over with as quickly as possible.

When they entered the room, they found Steve sitting up in bed. Even though it was decided to do this in his own room rather than in the infusion facility, he wore a T-shirt and sweats instead of the hated hospital gown.

Danny had argued it was like getting dressed up be on a radio show. Why the hell care what you're wearing? No one will see you.

To Steve, it was a small way to prove to himself at least that he isn't just a subject in a drug study but a man who expected to be able to walk away from it independent and alive. He was long past giving a shit what anyone else thought and told his partner so.

Danny is aware it's an attitude adopted by those who'd gone through a life threatening circumstance and managed to come out alive on the other side. Of course, Steve had survived many such harrowing situations in his life and had the attitude to prove it. He tackles each new challenge with focus and ferocity, not giving a rat's ass what people thought of his methods. He'd mostly likely been that way since before Danny had known him.

At first, because of this attitude, there'd been worry over Steve being the one called on to give the occasional press conference, (truth is not always appreciated in those situations), but Steve had proven to be as adept at that as he is at all his undertakings. It was just the _personal_ interactions that could be a little tricky for him sometimes.

Catherine and Danny sat in chairs nearby, trying to stay out of everyone's way. As predicted, Steve had been hesitant about allowing anyone other than medical personnel to be present. The thought of having those he cares about witnessing what would surely be stressful, no matter how much he appreciated their concern, bothered him. His best friend and his former lover could not be dissuaded and vowed to be there to support him. Touched and appreciative of their concern, he reluctantly agreed to let them be there with him during the infusion.

Looking up as the two medics entered the room he smiled and said, "Looks like the show's about to start."

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 **Next update will be within a week or possibly sooner if all goes well.**

 **Would very much appreciate your comments on this chapter. There seems to be a pretty even split about having Catherine stay or go. If SPNGran gets her way, Ms. Rollins will be history.**


	34. The Last Shot

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 34

 **Thank you all so very much for your comments, follows and favorites. Will be replying as soon as I hit the 'enter' key to post this. Please see the note at the end of this chapter.**

 ** _No one_ beta'ed this puppy. Ran it through spell-check but that's all that time would allow. If you spot any glaring error, please let me know so I can fix it immediately. Otherwise, corrections will probably be made over the next couple of days. There are ALWAYS corrections to be made, for time is short and squirrels are many.**

 **Disclaimer: Had Microsoft not had other plans, this chapter would have been posted Friday night. If I got paid for this, (which I don't), I'd take my earnings and purchase the biggest baddest Mac that money can buy then engage in a chocolate binge that will erase all memory of Windows 10.**

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The Last Shot

Fanning and Shan had decided to make another adjustment to the drug study. Their patient, now too weak to walk all the way to the infusion center and resistant to the use of a wheelchair to get there, would receive treatment in his room. It would make the infusion as stress free as possible for all concerned. As it is, this last one will probably be pretty rough.

As evidenced from the prior infusion, Steve's increased sensitivity to the drug meant its painful effects would be immediate. The possibility of other patients in the infusion center observing someone in nearly intolerable pain is definitely not a good idea. Those undergoing chemo and other procedures already have enough to deal with.

Precisely at nine AM, Dr. Fanning himself walked in carrying a tray on which were the main components of the process: a small vial, a large needle, a bag of saline and the turkey baster sized syringe. He'd prevailed and it had been decided to once again dilute the solution even though it would take longer to infuse. He hoped to lessen the feeling their patient had described as 'having acid poured into his veins'. Dr. Shan had only reluctantly agreed.

They'd also come to another decision. Detective Williams had been very _persuasive_ to put it mildly when arguing that, if by now, they didn't have enough evidence of the drug's effects as it was being administered, then, they never would. Without a hit of a pain reliever before the infusion, they'd just be torturing his friend for no reason. This time, both doctors concurred. Study be damned, for this, their patient's last treatment, they'd administer a fairly heavy narcotic before the infusion begins.

Danny observed from a few feet away as Catherine stood next to the halfway reclined bed; Steve sitting on it cross-legged while Catherine held his hand.

Tina inserted a needle into a vial she took from her tunic pocket and drew out several cc's of a clear fluid into a syringe, flicking it to remove any air bubbles. "Honey," she addressed her patient, "This is gonna make you a little sleepy, just go with it." She gestured for Steve to lie back on the bed and he nodded wordlessly in reply, his grip imperceptibly tightening on Catherine's hand as he complied with the nurse's directive.

Tina knew the commander really didn't like the effects of narcotics, (probably a control issue she'd thought), but it was either this or he'd suffer the full agony of the infusion. Quickly inserting the needle into the port of the IV catheter in the back of his right hand, Tina pushed the pain medication.

Almost immediately, Steve blinked in surprise as he felt the cool rush of what druggies call 'hospital heroin'. "Wow. This stuff works really fast." He exclaimed and looked toward Danny with a dazed smile before he leaned back his head and closed his eyes.

"You got the good stuff, eh buddy?" asked the detective with a small smile

"Mm." Was all his friend had time to acknowledge before his eyes drifted shut and he began to nod off.

Tina had told them the hydromorphone, aka dilauded, would be fast acting and, considering Steve's weakened state, though it wasn't a big dose it would most likely knock him out - if only briefly. Dr. Shan the nephrologist, felt that a larger dosage would put his patient's kidneys at too much of a risk so they were giving him only as much as they felt was safe. It wasn't going to take away all of the pain but, hopefully, it would at least be dulled.

On the other side of the bed Catherine held tightly to Steve's hand until she felt it relax and go limp when he went under. Her trepidation at seeing him in pain was strong but there's no way she wouldn't be by his side for this. They'd already lost too much of the time that seemed to become evermore precious with each passing minute.

Fanning had completed the process of diluting the drug with saline and it was now ready to go. He had Tina lower the bed until it was nearly flat then pulled a rolling stool to the side of it and sat down. "Here we go Steve." he said to his patient who may not even have heard him. Then, inserting the needle into the designated port of the picc line, he slowly pushed in the plunger.

After only a brief moment, eyes that had closed with the effects of the dilauded suddenly opened wide as Steve gasped and cried out before slamming them shut in agony and attempting to curl himself into a ball.

"We need you to stay flat Steve. You can't compromise any blood flow by flexing your limbs." warned Dr. Fanning. Not yet done infusing the drug that caused this disturbing reaction, he moved quickly to keep the picc line from being crimped when Steve rolled onto his side.

Tina cajoled, "Come on Steven, sweetie. Just lay back for us. The worst will be over in a few minutes." The nurse then added to herself, _I truly hope._

Steve had pulled his hand away when the drug had hit and Catherine bit her lips as she watched him panting with pain and trying to comply with his caregiver's entreaties to lie flat.

"We're here, Babe." soothed Danny as he came forward and pressed gently on his friend's shoulders to hold him down when Steve mumbled a curse and tried to curl up again.

"Danny!" his partner cried out in pain as he writhed on the bed.

Detective Daniel Williams had experienced this terrible feeling of helplessness very few times in his life. One of them was when his daughter's namesake, Grace Tillwell, had been killed. They'd been tied side by side in a dirty warehouse when she'd been shot. His NPD partner only had time to desperately call out his name before she was gone. Now, here he is watching Steve go through this torture without being able to do anything to stop it. He wanted to cry.

Catherine Rollins, a woman who'd faced armed combat; who'd actually taken bullets and broken bones in the service of her country and was as fearless as the man she'd loved and left was now nearly overwhelmed with fear. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she didn't bother to wipe them away, instead, capturing Steve's flailing hand and holding on for dear life as he writhed and twisted on the bed while Danny worked to hold him down and Tina tried to soothe him with her words.

Is this what he'd been enduring without her being here to offer any support? She knew that his ohana had never left his side but she should have been here. How could she _ever_ make up for her abandonment?

…

Feeling a sudden puff of cool air on the back of his neck, in one motion, he stood and whirled to see the sliding door ajar and a darkly clothed figure rushing toward him; something shiny in its hand.

Dropping the piece of toast he still clutched, Martin gave a squawk and fell backward over the coffee table when the backs of his knees contacted its edge.

Landing in a heap and with eyes wide in terror, he quickly rolled beneath the heavy table to look upward through its glass. Petrified, he saw the assassin's face crease into a triumphant smile. Leaning downward, the attacker lifted the heavy piece of furniture as though it were feather light; tumbling it on its side to better reach the prey that cowered beneath.

His see-through shield now gone; Martin scrambled backward, his hand landing on something that had rolled along the floor to come to a stop at the sofa's bottom edge; the ketchup bottle left from last night's dinner.

…..

The Jezebel's captain now had the pleasure of the sparse accommodation of the blue room where the attractive island woman and the tall black man had been questioning him for the last hour.

"You do know that your employer could give a rat's ass about his little worker bees, don't you?" asked Grover, his heavy brow rising in question.

"It's true." added the woman, "The last couple guys who failed him are now occupying drawers at the Medical Examiner's office."

"I already told you. I don't know anything about any paintings. Those crates were only supposed to be holding supplies for my ship. If there was anything else in them, then I have no idea how it got there."

"That's not what your crew member told us." smirked the tall cop. "He said that you weren't too pleased to be hauling, I quote 'Fucking Piccassos'."

Snorted the captain as he stretched his legs and once again tested the cuffs that bound him to the metal chair, "You _do_ know that little mama's boy is a drug dealer right? There's nothing lower than a drug dealer."

"Unless, of course, you count your employer who is not only a drug dealer but a racketeer and murderer as well." replied the female cop as the other one nodded in agreement.

"I don't know anything about that." chuffed the leather-skinned sailor who'd come to the conclusion he wasn't going anywhere for the time being. He sighed then looked up with a lazy smile. "You people are barking up the wrong mast. I don't know anyone who could be called a racketeer, let alone a murderer."

"Well, I suppose you'll find out soon enough." replied Grover before he turned toward Kono and asked, "Officer Kalakaua, what say we just turn this guy loose and see how long it takes for his boss to sic his troops on him?"

"Sounds like a plan." responded Kono with a seemingly delighted smile, "I've got twenty that says they find him and take care of him within three hours - four tops."

"You're on. I say they find him within two, and I've got another twenty that says he's in one of those drawers beside the others within a day, day and a half at most." nodded Grover with an even bigger smile. " _Your_ twenty will just about buy me a plate of garlic fried shrimp and maybe a beer to go with it. Man, I love that stuff."

"That is if we can find his body after they're done with him." said Kono, a frown creasing her smooth brow. "If that museum director was any example, you know it might take a while."

"Yeah, you're right. As I seem to recall, all his parts weren't still attached to him when we found what was left at Makapu'u Point. You know, I'm still not convinced it was just sharks – at least not the kind that swim in the ocean – that were responsible for those missing pieces." sighed Grover.

Rattled by the macabre wagers and even more so by the disturbing description of another of Nozaki's former employees, the captain blurted, "He wouldn't do that! He's a businessman!"

"I guess so." shrugged the tall cop before adding, "But his business is gonna involve putting you in the ground, or, you know, the ocean."

"That does seem to be a favorite of his." mused Kono aloud. "But it does make it harder on us. We always have to wait for victims to wash-up on shore. It's kind of annoying to have to wait so long."

"That is if we can find your whole body." said Grover, "No matter, I guess, 'cause we don't need much tissue to get DNA from. The rest of you can be shark food. It'll save us the expense of shipping a body back to where was that again? South Africa? It's way cheaper to just send a piece of one."

"Screw you!" growled the captain. "You can't prove anything! I'm just a tour boat operator, not an art smuggler! I don't have anything to worry about."

"Nah, I'm sure you don't." smiled Grover at the man who now looked to have broken out in a sweat. "We just gotta take care of a few things ahead of time before we turn you loose. Being a sailor and all, maybe you'd rather be buried at sea? You need to let us know what kind of burial you want or the address to send the body parts to. Johannesburg was it? Do you think your wife and kids are gonna enjoy inheriting a boat?"

Watching the captain's eyes widen until bloodshot whites showed all around faded blue irises, Kono thought, _Shouldn't be long now._

…..

Chin and Lori arrived at the Oahu Triton as uniformed police were milling about in its small but well-appointed lobby. A call had come in about a blood-covered man rushing into it and babbling something about ninja's in his room. HPD had quickly dispatched several units.

It had been known to a very few where their witness, one Martin Shaftbottom, had been stashed. It seemed there were even further leaks in the agency responsible for his safety from Yakuza assassins. There were some serious inquiries about to be launched into the goings on of personnel at the Honolulu PD.

The two uniformed officers assigned to guard him had been found drugged in a maid's closet while two plain-clothes officers were found in the same condition in the hotel kitchen's walk-in fridge. Nozaki's forces had come perilously close to disposing of the thief who knew enough to put the Oyabun in chains.

The two Five-0 cops stood at the doorway and observed what appeared to be the remnants of a blood bath.

Their 'protected' witness sat dazed on a chair at the edge of the room; red stains almost completely obliterating the hibiscus flower design of his Hawaiian shirt. Upon approaching him, it was observed that the color, consistency, and scent of the bright red stains pointed to a liquid other than blood. It appeared to be ketchup.

….

Danny had asked Catherine to do him a favor and seek out the sacred coffee machine, (the one he'd been directed to so long ago by a fetching intake nurse). For whatever reason, the brew this particular machine dispensed was nearly equal to that sold at the coffee house around the corner from the hospital. He'd asked her to bring him back a cup though he really didn't need one. The woman hadn't said anything but he could tell she was stressed to the max after watching Steve go through the infusion. Maybe it would do her some good to go for a walk.

Steve is lying quietly in a drugged stupor. The last of the treatments had been completed and now they had to wait for nearly a week to see if it had any effect other than to put his friend through hell once again.

As he continued to sit vigil beside the bed, the detective studied his partner's face. He remembered what Steve had been like when they'd first met in John McGarrett's garage: lean, mean, and wound tighter than a tourniquet. Steve had mellowed over the last few years; not becoming soft, mind you, but just less brittle; less likely to hold himself at a distance or close himself off like an angry clam. Danny laughed silently at his own analogy. _Do clams even get angry?_

The man had changed – mostly for the better. The 'arrogance' had never left but his team had come to understand that it wasn't really arrogance at all. It was confidence that he could overcome any obstacle put in his path; could prevail over any situation that presented a challenge. His training had mandated it then the mindset had been reinforced by enduring unspeakable horrors and overwhelmingly harsh circumstances to emerge triumphant. Steve is made of tougher stuff than any ten men put together and could be disturbingly scary when seen in what had long been his element – battle. But he'd gotten through it and had somehow managed to retain what may be his best qualities; his willingness to help others and his kindness.

There was no one who gave so much and asked so little in return. Without Steve, his team would be lost. He'd been the one to prop them all up at one time or another. Providing quiet support to Chin after his wife's death, keeping his vow to Kono that he would always protect her, befriending a medical examiner who was a tad too 'different' for most others, and becoming a friend to an ex SWAT commander who'd at first been an adversary. Even Jerry had experienced the giving nature of their leader.

Somehow, despite his own sometime awkwardness at what Danny had called mammal-to-mammal communication, Steve had taken in so many of those who needed a friend.

Danny would be forever indebted to his partner for his covert intervention that allowed Gracie to stay in her happily established home when Rachel wanted to take her away to wherever Stan had decided they were to live. It was Steve who'd eased the transition of a Jersey detective, a stranger in a 'pineapple infested hellhole' to someone, if still not entirely comfortable in, then at least at peace with his new home in Hawaii.

But, mused Danny, despite all of his partner's fierceness as well as his caring, where had it gotten him?

Here, now, is Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, felled by an unseen enemy; brought to near death by something no amount of training or confidence could overcome. No points were given for being an amazing friend and brother to those who needed him. This was his last shot at survival and he had no control over its outcome.

Danny continued to gaze at the man who lay in exhausted sleep. How will any of them cope if Steve doesn't make it through this?

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Not much more whump, (I'm beginning to worry about us all). This thing was only supposed to be about fourteen chapter long. (You see how well that turned out). Looks like two more chapters to go.**

 **Haven't yet had time to tally up the yeas and nays regarding Ms. Rollins' return. Your input will affect the next update. Until then, any comments you'd care to make about this chapter or anything else regarding this story would be most appreciated.**


	35. Lie to Me

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 35

 **I know you think it's been way too long since the last update and I agree. If you're still reading, thank you. Have counted the yeas and nays for Ms. Rollins and it's pretty clear what the majority of you think. Will do my best to justify your wishes in the next update. Not much Steve, (a conscious Steve), in this one but that will be fixed in the next update.**

 **Because SPNGran has a life, Imaginary Beta takes sole responsibility for proofing this one. At least we know what to expect. I apologize in advance.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't get paid for writing this but at least NotSoNinjaCat appreciates that her human bed stays in one place long enough for a nice nap.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Lie to Me

Once again, it's Lori's turn to sit with Steve. It was just the two of them in the semi-quiet room. On the television mounted high-up on the wall played a football game; the volume turned almost all the way down. She assumed Danny had either been watching it or he'd put it on for Steve like some people leave on a radio or TV for their pets. She could just imagine the SEAL rolling his eyes at the very thought.

Catherine had been persuaded to take a few hours to get some rest and Danny had driven her to the McGarrett house. The detective looked wrung-out and the woman with him appeared exhausted when she'd met them at change of shift. From their brief report, Steve's last treatment had been brutal.

She felt for Steve's best friend and even for his ex. She knows Danny is incredibly stressed over his friend's precarious health, plus the responsibility of running Five-0 in his absence adds to the anxiety the detective isn't always successful at concealing. Catherine, unable to hide her guilt over not being here to support her very ill boyfriend – or ex-boyfriend - was pale; her eyes darkly shadowed. She's a wreck but, unlike Steve's sister, is subtle about it.

From a long conversation with Kono, the profiler had learned the island woman still wasn't feeling all that warm and fuzzy toward the one who'd left her friend and mentor in the lurch. Kono was aware that it had affected him badly and that it was obvious to her that Steve just wasn't the same after Catherine had again abandoned him.

When she'd left the second time, Kono said she wanted to track the woman down and kick her ass; that Steve should have but there was no need for him to do it personally. There were many standing in line to do it for him. Kono conceded that her boss's ex-girlfriend's return may have done him some good but, so help her, if she left him again, all bets were off. Ms. Rollins would be fair game for his ohana's wrath. Lori laughed at memory of the fierce look of determination on Kono's usually serene face. There was no doubt Officer Kalakaua meant business.

Steve had been under since the profiler had arrived two hours ago. When she heard a soft moan, she put down her magazine and went to him. He lay curled on his side, his face scrunched as though in pain.

Sweat soaked his hair and chalk white skin showed the flush of a fever. Taking his hand in hers, she found it was ice cold and its structure feather-light as a bird's. Paper-thin skin stretched over spokes of bone that radiated from a knobby wrist. He looked so frail. She remembered hugging him goodbye when she'd been dismissed by the governor. The arms that had wrapped around were strong, the hands warm.

He moaned once more as his grip tightened ever so slightly on hers before he sighed softly and seemed to sink into a deeper sleep.

Satisfied he wasn't waking, she continued to hold his hand as she took the opportunity to study his face. The lines indicating discomfort had smoothed and the set of his mouth had softened making him look so much younger than he usually appeared.

Even when the team had been engaged in relaxing activities: having a beer at Side Street or gathered on Steve's lanai after whatever excuse for a party had presented itself, there was still a tension in face and body. Like a cat whose posture could be one of boneless repose; humming just beneath its silken coat lay energy that could explode into fight or flight at the slightest provocation. It wasn't just mere physical beauty that made the man so attractive, it was the controlled power that lay just beneath the surface that was intriguing.

Steve was nearly successful at maintaining an emotional opaqueness but not quite. To those who knew how to look, like a close friend or a Homeland Security profiler, there was something else to see besides a granite facade. The thought that someone had broken through this nearly impenetrable wall then gone on to fracture what it had protected made her angry as well. If the time comes, maybe she'll go along with Kono to kick a certain woman's ass.

…..

Catherine and Mary returned to the hospital together. Mary had calmed but she still picked at her nails nervously as she sat in the passenger seat of the Silverado. Catherine, mostly in the interest of self-preservation had asked Mary if she wanted her to drive it back to the hospital. Thanks to the effects of several milligrams of Xanax, Steve's sister was calm enough but it didn't necessarily make her a safe driver. Thankfully, she'd relinquished the keys to her brother's big blue truck.

Hearing voices right outside the door, Lori looked up from where she stood next to the bed. She quickly released Steve's hand and placed it gently back on the bed then stepped away just as the door was pushed open and Mary, Catherine right behind her, entered the room.

"Hey." she greeted.

"How is he!?" worriedly asked the female half of what's left of the McGarrett family.

"He's resting." replied Lori, keeping her voice low. "The nurse said he'll be out of it for most of the rest of the day and maybe through tomorrow. They've given him something to keep him under so that he can get some rest."

"Yeah, I guess that last treatment was pretty rough." said Mary as she approached her brother's bedside.

"So I've been told." replied Lori, trying not to hold the woman's previous hysteria against her. How Mary could be related to Steve she had no idea. Except for maybe eye color, they didn't even physically resemble one another all that much let alone possess any similarity of temperament.

Mary stood looking down at him. "He doesn't even know I'm here, does he?" she asked rhetorically.

"Probably not but you should talk to him anyway. I think somehow he'll know. It couldn't hurt." replied Lori.

Catherine had hung back but now stepped up to take a place next to the bed and gaze worriedly down at her former lover. "I think Steve needs all the support he can get right now." she said sincerely.

 _Yeah, about that_ . . . thought Lori as she smiled faintly at the dark-haired woman before asking, "Why don't we let Mary have some time alone with her brother? Let's go downstairs and get some late lunch or early dinner. I'm starving."

Catherine smiled back and said, "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. We'll be here for several hours so it's probably wise to get something to eat." Turning to Mary she asked, "Can we bring you something?"

"Nah, thanks. My stomach is still too messed-up to eat. I'll just hang with Steve. This is probably my opportunity to tell him that I'm thinking of getting married and he won't be able to talk me out of it." she smiled a bit grimly.

"We'll have to hear all about it when we get back." answered Catherine who'd been relieved that Mary didn't seem to be holding much animosity toward her. Perhaps she was too self-involved to make much note of her brother's love life but, more likely, Steve had soft-pedaled the story of how he felt about his long time love going her separate way. As he'd once said and then confirmed by just being himself, McGarrett men were not known for displays of emotion.

In any case, Steve's description of one of Mary's past paramours, (calling him a na'aupo douche), made her hope it wasn't the same guy. It had always amused her that Steve sometimes mixed-in other languages when swearing. For the last few years the added words were more and more in the language of his islands – either Hawaiian or pidgin.

They left Mary with her brother. Walking out the door and turning left toward the elevators, the two were on their way to what would prove to be an interesting lunch.

….

Martin startled when he felt a hand placed on his shoulder. It was that Hawaiian cop from Five-0. The man frowned down at him and asked, "You ready to answer some questions for us?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." answered the thief who'd yet to stop trembling from the adrenaline that had flooded his system during the gory/ketchupy battle twenty minutes earlier.

"This was what? The third attempt on your life?" asked the man the uniformed cops addressed as Lieutenant Kelly.

"Yeah, only." snorted Martin before shakily lifting a bottle of water to his lips.

"Time to tell us what you know so we can get you to a permanently safe place, brah." said the wearing a button down Henley.

He assumed the Hawaiian cop's rank wasn't just honorary. Like many others on this much too casual island, he's attired in clothing that gives no indication of status. The only display of any sort of officialdom is the shiny badge clipped to his belt.

"They'll keep trying until they're successful you know. The Yakuza has a really long memory. Elephant's got nuthin' on them." said the very tall black man wearing a rather gaudy Hawaiian shirt.

The shaken thief ran his hand through hair coated in nearly as much ketchup as the rest of him. He wondered if the substance would stain his only recently restored color. The stuff was becoming disgustingly gummy as it dried.

Not knowing if it was blood from damage caused by the broken bottle or if it was the contents of the bottle itself, the image of the dead assassin lying in a puddle of red was stuck in his mind. Either way, it was a grisly sight. He'd never caused physical damage to anyone before – let alone killed them. In the past, if he couldn't _talk_ his way out of a sticky situation, he'd used speed and evasion to deal with it. Evidence of that failed tactic was being zipped into a body bag only a few feet away.

"So, what now?" he asked, "I just spend the rest of my life locked in a hotel room?"

"Nah, replied Grover, "First of all, the State of Hawaii would eventually run out of funds to keep your self-entitled ass ensconced in such nice surroundings. The accommodations would have to decline in quality to something decidedly less pricey. You've heard of Motel 6, right?"

Martin rolled his eyes at the very thought.

"Second of all, there are other alternatives." supplied Lieutenant Kelly.

"Other alternatives?" asked Martin; at once hopeful yet hesitant.

"The federal government would be willing to enroll you in its WITSEC program in exchange for all of the information you have on your Yakuza connection. So far, you've only come up with information on the ship involved in this particular case. We and Interpol are very interested in certain pieces of art that have gone astray in the past few years." said the lieutenant.

"And what about charges against yours truly? Not that there should be any, mind you, considering I had nothing to do with any other art thefts." cautiously asked the art thief. "If I can somehow be of help regarding any art in the possession of a certain East Asian gentleman, would I be charged with any crime in which he could be implicated?"

Chin smiled his cat-that-ate-the-canary smile and replied, "Of course not."

"Look Shaftbottom", interrupted the other cop, "Cut the crap. We know you're in this up to your pompadour. If you want to make a deal, then give us what you know and, _maybe_ , we won't let the Yakuza grab your ass and you won't be joining your museum buddy in his long his dirt nap."

Martin pulled his Tommy Bahama away from where it was stuck to his chest as he grimaced in disgust. "You think I can go somewhere nice?" he asked.

…..

Seems it's 'Taco Tuesday' according to the sign at the door. The smell of corn tortillas, garlic, and cumin were top notes in the cafeteria's olfactory ambiance; its menu pleasingly varied. If one wanted healthy fare, there were fruit and veggies galore but, if one wanted to indulge in fare that would probably get them drummed out of Whole Foods, there were other choices as well.

This time, both women opted for the mainstay of many seeking solace during stressful times – chocolate. Catherine chose a slice of decadent chocolate cream pie to go with her coffee while Lori went right to mainlining the stuff; chocolate ice cream drowned in hot fudge and piled with whipped cream. Of course, there was fruit as well, (if maraschino cherries count).

The lunch crowd had cleared out and only a few stragglers remained here and there. The smells of steam table food hung thick in the air as the two women found a place in the corner that would provide the most privacy.

They'd eaten only a few mouthfuls before Catherine blurted, "It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't hate my guts for a change . . . or least I don't think you do." tentatively smiled the dark-haired woman. "Do you?"

A bit taken aback by the question, Lori asked, "Why would I hate you?", (though she probably already knew the answer).

Catherine's dark eyes crinkled at the corners as she regarded her lunch companion. "Maybe you haven't yet heard. It seems that _everyone_ is pissed that Steve and I are no longer together."

 _You mean that you dumped his ass and took off for parts unknown_ , thought Lori before carefully replying, "I did hear something about you leaving." She took a sip of the strong black coffee that accompanied her 'lunch'. She had no idea why she'd ordered it. Having already drunk at least two cups she was beginning to feel the effects of caffeine overload. Her pulse rate must be in hummingbird range by now.

"So, did Steve wake at all?" asked Catherine.

"Not really. He sort of moaned a couple times but didn't come all the way awake. I um . . . I held his hand for a little bit and he seemed to calm down." said Lori, feeling strange admitting she'd held the hand of the ex-boyfriend of the woman who sat on the other side of the table from her.

Catherine sighed sadly, staring into the depths of the cup of tea that sat steeping before her. "He's so lucky to have you guys around. I've failed him so badly by not being here."

"Well, you couldn't know that he'd become so ill." said Lori not unsympathetically.

Voice catching with emotion, Catherine replied, "I haven't been there when so many things had happened to him. He was alone so many times when someone should have been there for him."

"His ohana is always there when he needs them. They'll always help him." said the profiler with absolute conviction.

"He won't ask for help." replied Catherine with a negative shake of her head. "That's one of the things we talked about a few times." With a small smile she added, "It didn't seem to have much of an impact. But, with Steve, the attitude isn't just macho bullshit. I honestly think that he doesn't feel he deserves it."

Lori is again surprised. Maybe it's just lack of sleep that prompts this forthrightness. "Why do you think that is?" she asks, genuinely interested in the answer.

"How . . ." began Catherine, her voice catching again before she cleared her throat and steadied herself. "How can anyone feel valued when . . . when people keep leaving them?"

A clatter made both of them jump when, on the other side of the fern-filled planter that divided off this section of the cafeteria, someone had dropped a tray and cursed loudly.

When the profiler returned her gaze to her lunch companion, she was dismayed to find that Catherine had pressed her hands tightly to her face in attempt to hold back emotion. She wasn't entirely successful; the shuddering of her shoulders giving her away.

After a long moment, Lori cleared her throat and went for it; asking softly, "Why did you leave him, Catherine?"

Pulling her hands from her face and sniffing wetly, Catherine picked up her paper napkin to dab at her eyes. "Sorry." she apologized. Then taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders she began, "The first time I left was because I had to repay someone for saving my life in Afghanistan. I had to find a boy named Najib."

"Did you find him?"

"Yes, yes I did; within a couple of months but I didn't come back to Hawaii for several more."

"Why did you stay away for so long?"

"I told Steve it was because I'd found my place working with the kids in the village. I told myself that too but it wasn't entirely true."

Lori waited quietly for Catherine to elaborate. There was no need to prompt her. She wondered if the woman had ever had the opportunity to explain herself. "It, it's a long story but, truth is, I'm a coward."

At that Lori raised her brows. From everything she'd heard, Lieutenant Catherine Rollins is anything but a coward. "Why do you think that?" she asked.

"I ran from someone who was no threat to me. Someone who only ever showed me how much I meant to him even if he didn't say it. It just seemed so, I don't know, overwhelming to be the object of something that intense. It scared me. How could I possibly be worthy of it? Not many people know how long it took him, years actually, before Steve told me he loved me." She smiled wistfully, "Of course, I knew he did.

"It sounds like maybe Steve isn't the only one who has trouble considering themselves worthy."

Catherine's expression grew even sadder. "It wasn't love that was the issue – it was trust. He'd been abandoned by so many others in his life that taking the chance and declaring it out loud was a big step; a giant one."

Lori nodded, saying, "That would be a big step for a lot of people."

As though she hadn't heard her, Catherine went on, "When I came back again, for Kono's wedding, I had every intention of staying. I wanted to make it work. I'd finally gotten over myself, my doubts, and intended to give it everything I had. Steve deserved no less."

"But you left again." nodded Lori, trying to keep her tone neutral. It must have torn Steve apart and that was hard to forgive for anyone who cared for the man. The profiler knew that Catherine had gone back to work in some sort of capacity for the government. That's as much as anyone knew except for Steve. Even Danny didn't know the details and had told her as much.

"I'm no better than any of the others." Catherine bitterly declared as tears began to pool in her eyes once more. "I let my job take precedence and abandoned him again. How can he want me to stay after what I've done?"

"Catherine, I can't tell you to go or stay but, at this point, Steve needs all the support he can get. His battle could go either way and we all have to do whatever we can to help him hang on long enough to win it." Now, despite her resolution to keep her own emotions in check, Lori's pale eyes began to glisten. "You have to be here for him for now. Lie to him if you have to. Tell him what he needs to hear. He'll believe you."

…..

Sunlight glowed pleasingly through the amber contents of the decanter sitting on the blotter before him. A soft breeze stirred the draperies on either side of the open french doors leading to the terrace overlooking the ocean. This island is pleasant enough, conceded Tatsuo Nozaki, but it's not home. Tonight, he'd be taking a flight out of Honolulu International to Narita. His business is concluded here and in only a few more days his long awaited shipment of paintings should be arriving in Japan. Picturing in his mind's eye where he was going to hang his newest acquisitions, he took another satisfying sip of his single malt whiskey.

Even with the couple million he'd spent getting the paintings, he was still paying only ten percent of their appraised value. Actually, now that those extraneous participants in the operation had been 'taken care of', the artwork was even more of a bargain. There was no need to pay dead people. As he'd heard the gaijin say, 'Every penny counts.'

Smiling to himself he decided he had the perfect place for the Renoir; it should go over the washlet. His new electronic toilet is top of the line so the art that hangs over it should be as well. Unfortunately, age has made it a bit more time consuming to tend to his morning business so he'll have plenty of time to study the painting's intricacies of color and light.

The location for Mrs. Trabuc hadn't yet been decided. To have the sour-faced woman staring at him from a wall in a room he'd be spending a lot of time in would be a bit disconcerting. Perhaps he'll put her in one of the guest rooms. His visitors need to be reminded that they are watched – and judged.

He'd just decided on the perfect place in his Tokyo mansion for Mrs. Trabuc to reside when gunfire and yelling erupted on the other side of the wall that separated the mansion's grounds from the other estates in the tony Black Point neighborhood. Looking upward at the big screen mounted on the wall opposite, Nozaki quickly punched the remote's button that switched the screen from the Nikkei Index report to the feed from the surveillance cameras scattered about the grounds.

He observed several people in tactical gear, some of them with SWAT lettered on their vests and others with 'POLICE'. There were others who had less obvious labels and appeared to have badges displayed on their protective gear.

"Unko! (shit)" he muttered as he watched in alarm. One-by-one, his troops were taken out; several by gunfire and others by the use of stun grenades that had them staggering blindly about the grassy lawn before falling to their knees and puking up their insides.

Reaching into the desk, he took out his Beretta and made ready to take his stand. It had been awhile since he'd had to engage in violence personally but a warrior never loses his taste for battle. He wouldn't go down without taking someone with him.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Will try my best to update within a week. In the meantime, your comments would be most welcome.**

 **PS – If we can ignore the medical fantasies, the 7th season looks like it's going to be awesome!**


	36. Bullets and Ribbons

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 36

 **Here, _finally_ , is the update. This writer is one who doesn't always win her battles against her arch enemy – a haphazard attention span. Those squirrels were really fierce this week.**

 **To all those who commented and/or voted and to those who followed or favorited, thank you.**

 **A special thank you to those who helped with this chapter: sue2556, Cokie316, Texas50fan, SPNGran, and even Husband. Sometimes it takes a village :-)**

 **SPNGran is back on duty but Imaginary Beta is, as always, much too meddlesome for her own good. All remaining errors are hers.**

 **Disclaimer: Still don't get paid for this but I will not cry over spilled Mai Tais . . . er milk.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Bullets and Ribbons

Someone had hold of his hand. He wants to know who it is but he doesn't want to break the spell. This isn't his first rodeo. He's comfortable right now but is aware that any movement, even if only to open his eyes and turn his head, might bring pain as a reward. There's no sense taking chances.

Instead, he lay taking stock of his body. Everything ached but it was the kind of ache that happened after you'd run miles farther than you should have – or been tumbled in a cement mixer. He wasn't too warm or too cold though so that's a win. His skin still feels tender . . . no, that's not right. It's not his skin but the layer just beneath. He supposes it has to do with capillaries or something. The last couple of times they'd infused that stuff into his veins it seemed to set his blood on fire - and not in a good way.

So, who's holding his hand? It definitely isn't a guy; skin is too smooth, touch too light. It has to be Catherine. She'd returned, right? He wasn't just dreaming it, right? A terrifying thought occurred to him. What if she was a hallucination? What if this was just another round of aftereffects from his latest and final ordeal at the hands of that evil bastard who'd had the gall to call him 'brother'?

Now, heart pounding with fear, he had to open his eyes. He had to make sure this wasn't just another manifestation of whatever Wo Fat had that bitch pump into him and that he's not still in that white room. Maybe there'd been no reprieve . . . no hospital . . . no Catherine. Cautiously, he lifted his lids. Only whiteness greeted him. _Shit!_

Squinting as his heart did its best to speed into the supersonic range, he discerned a grid. Blinking to improve his focus, he could make out an expanse of acoustic panels. There was no memory of what the ceiling had been like in the white room but it probably wasn't panels.

Slowly he turned his head. Neck muscles spasmed at the movement and he couldn't hold in a groan as he had to squeeze his eyes shut again.

The hand around his tightened. Then a soft voice asked, "Steve?"

…..

Staccato pops of automatic gunfire pierced the genteel atmosphere of the Black Point neighborhood. _If_ residents recognized the din, it was most likely from watching television shoot-em-ups rather than from real life experience. Even if by chance the sound was correctly interpreted, the hearer's conclusion wouldn't be believed. Surely, nothing so crass would ever have invaded this gated fortress of conspicuous consumption.

Vowed more than one denizen of the exclusive seaside development, ' _Wait till the homeowner's association hears about this_ _horrid noise_ _! Fireworks aren't even remotely welcome_ _d_ _here!_ _The authorities must be notified!'_ This opulent nirvana of the nouveau riche made no allowances for intrusive noises.

All hands on deck, Five-0 slowly advanced across the manicured lawn of the mansion overlooking the Pacific. They'd learned the multi-million dollar estate belongs to an 'investor' in a shell company whose purpose was to launder money for the Yakuza.

Shelter from the ongoing fusillade of the oyabun's guards was found behind statuary dotting the grounds. Lou Grover swore loudly as a bullet bit into the polished derrier of a marble maiden and chunks of it exploded over his head, some of the finer bits stinging his face. His team, Kono included, would later tease him about a 'piece of ass' almost being the cause for a trip to the hospital. He didn't think it was funny.

A few yards away, from behind a gigantic stone fountain featuring water nymphs cavorting with ducks . . . _excuse me, swans,_ as Kono had corrected him, Five-0's temporary leader called out, "Cover me! I'm moving-in!"

It prompted Lou to loudly reply, "Who do you think you are?! McGarrett?!" but, nonetheless, he leaned around the maiden's damaged posterior to crank off several rounds.

Danny charged from behind his cover just as one of the stone swans bit the big one; a Yakuza bullet catching it in the neck and causing its head to plop into the fountain.

From behind a low wall at the edge of the grassy expanse, Kono popped up and sprayed the terrace with a barrage from her MP7. One of the Yakuza gunmen immediately fell over backward; dead before he hit the flagstones; a 9 mil round in his heart. She'd later claim it was a lucky shot but no one believed her.

Chin, behind the ironic protection of a great bronze Buddha sitting peacefully amid a plot of roses, sprang from his crouch to provide cover for the rapidly moving blonde man.

Protected by the curtain of fire provided by his team, Danny reached the cover of the outdoor fireplace just as the interior of the home erupted in chaos. The massive wooden doors at its front entrance had been breached and cops with SWAT emblazoned on their tac vests poured through the opening like swarming ants.

The man Danny recognized from their meeting in the dark restaurant two weeks ago burst out the french doors that opened onto the terrace and came to a halt only feet away. Soulless black eyes locked on his own as the Oyabun raised his Beretta and took aim.

…...

Mary Ann McGarrett is not in a good mood. Her brother's illness had stressed her to the max and, even with the edge taken off by doctor prescribed happy pills, she'd destroyed her fingernails; gnawing them to the quick.

She and Steve had finally gotten their sibling relationship back on track after being apart for so many years. Now she's in danger of losing her last remaining blood relative because of some stupid disease she'd never even heard of. During past visits to this place of their births, Steve had been robust and all 'SEALY' as she'd described him mostly just to irritate her big brother. This time she'd hardly recognized him. Seeing him so frail looking had been unnerving

She wasn't used to this. Steve was always the one who'd looked out for her - even if only from a distance. They hadn't spent any time together since they were kids but, sometimes to her great annoyance, he'd always kept track of her; had always been the one to bail her out, (literally at times). He'd always tried to mediate the consequences of her sometimes disastrous decisions. This situation is just so not acceptable!

To top it off, from last night's conversation with Brandon, it appears her fiance is getting cold feet: ' _Why don't we just put this whole getting hitched thing on hold for a little bit, Mary-Berry',_ (she hates that name) _. 'When you get back to_ _L.A._ _, we'll talk it over. No use rushing into things while you're so worried about your brother.'_ She'd immediately called bullshit and, by the time they'd hung up with one another, it was time to go looking for a new BF.

She'd also had a conversation with that Five-0 temp, the one from Homeland Security. Though the woman hadn't spilled anything specific, she'd said that it was a good thing Steve's sister had come to offer support. Though he hadn't admitted it, this illness had been wearing on him mentally and she'd heard he hadn't been in a good frame of mind even before he got sick.

That statement had triggered warning bells in Mary McGarrett's mind and prompted a deeper inquiry into her brother's recent history. When pressed further Lori had clammed-up, maintaining that she'd already spoken out of turn. Though she actually did it for a living, this time, it wasn't her place to speculate on the reasons for someone's emotional status. Besides, the information had been second-hand. The profiler had advised that if she needed to know, she should ask him about it when he was up to having the conversation.

Steve's baby sister was now mega pissed. She was pretty sure she knew why her brother may have been depressed. When they'd had a phone conversation a few months ago she'd inquired how Catherine was and Steve had hemmed and hawed before telling her that he and his enamorata had gone their separate ways for the time being. 'Mr. Stoic' had said that his, (unadmittedly _ex_ ), girlfriend had left Hawaii to work somewhere overseas for an unspecified period of time and that he was okay with it. In addition to that bit of misinformation, Steve was practically at death's door by the time Danny had called to let her know that her brother was even sick. This whole situation is messed up.

Now on a mission for more information, she'd pressed the one most likely to crack – Kamekona. The big man had folded like a wet cardboard box and she'd learned that Catherine had just up and split one day without warning. Thinking back to that time, it coincided with fewer check-ins from her big brother. She'd put it down to him being so busy with work but now she knew he was just trying to avoid answering any questions as to why the love of his life had abandoned him.

Yeah, she was going to have a talk with someone . . . a couple someones. She strode purposefully down the corridor to room 602. Without bothering to knock she entered to see that her brother is asleep; Catherine beside him in the chair pulled up to his bedside. The dark haired woman looked up and smiled when she saw who'd come to visit. Without waking him she gently set Steve's hand back by his side.

She knows she should be embarrassed to interrupt such an intimate moment but she's not. She's too pissed. _But_ , Mary conceded to herself, maybe confronting Steve's ex here in this room isn't such a good idea. Even just lying in bed asleep Steve looks exhausted. It could wait for the moment.

"Hey" she greeted in a stage whisper. "So, how's my big bro today?"

"Still sleeping. He woke about an hour ago but wasn't totally with it. His nurse said the sedation won't fully wear off until later tonight sometime."

They made small talk. Catherine told her the big case the team had been working on was about to break and the entire Five-0 team was off somewhere taking care of it. The plan was for them to visit Steve en masse in the morning. If he was in any shape by then, they'd fill him in on the details.

After about twenty minutes of fairly mindless chit-chat, there was a firm knock and the door was pushed open to reveal the massive monolith that is Kamekona, a plastic bag, dangling from one giant paw. "Howzit wahines?" he greeted.

"Hey, I thought you didn't like hospitals." said Mary teasingly.

Coming forward a bit hesitantly, the shrimp truck entrepreneur replied, "I don't but da Big Kahuna could probly use someting more ono den da hospital grinds he's been eating for so long. I brought him my house specialty. Maybe now dat he's done with his treatments, he could start on da good stuff."

"I'm sure he'll like that when he's up to it but, for now, I think he might be restricted to something less . . . tasty." smiled Catherine.

Kamekona, nodded. He'd belatedly realized that he maybe screwed-up big time by blabbing the details of McGarrett's girlfriend's leaving. He never expected to see sister and ex together in the same room; especially not in the room in which he currently found himself. Besides feeling guilty for spilling the beans he was also really worried that his leaked information could trigger a cat fight.

"Well, if McGarrett isn't up to it, maybe you'd like a meal of da finest shrimp on da island?" he asked. Intending to leave as quickly as his bulk would allow, he smiled apprehensively as he thrust the take-out bag toward the ex.

"Thank you, Kame." replied Catherine as her mouth watered. The scent of Kamekona's signature dish permeated the air but, while it made _her_ hungry, it could be the cause of something unpleasant for Steve. She'd better get it out of here as quickly as possible. Steve actually loved the big guy's food, but she knew he wouldn't be in any shape for more than some water and maybe a few sips of juice when he awakened. The pungent smell of garlic shrimp could trigger a round of retching. Tina, his nurse, had said that nausea would be a problem for at least a couple more days.

"You know what?" asked Mary. "I'm really hungry too and Cath probably needs a break. Would you mind staying with Steve for a few minutes?" The petite woman smiled up at him sweetly.

Kamekona replied, "You got it small kine. I'll keep da Big Kahuna company while you ladies go um . . . do your lady tings."

Mary, with a smile now eerily reminiscent of a shark's, nodded and replied, "Thanks big guy. I'll see you in a few."

He noticed that she'd used the singular rather than the plural to say who'd be returning to the room. _Dis can't be good._

Catherine, former naval officer and member of Five-0 was more than capable of defending herself but, from prior experience, Kamekona knew that McGarrett's sister is scrappy as a Tasmanian devil. He had no intention of being anywhere near the vicinity of this hospital if the two came to a smackdown.

 _Crap!_ thought the shrimp truck entrepreneur as the two women left the room. _I screwed up big time._ _McGarrett'_ _s_ _gonna kill me if his_ _kaikuahine_ _and his_ _ex-_ _ipo land in jail_ _cuz dey duked_ _it ou_ _t in a hospital hallway._

With a giant sigh, he turned to where his friend lay asleep and muttered what must surely be a rhetorical question, "Are all you McGarretts scary as shit?"

….

When it was over, Tatsuo Nozaki lay dead. Blood oozed from a neat bullet hole between the obsidian eyes that stared up at an impossibly blue sky. _Well,_ thought Detective Danny Williams as he gazed down at the dead Yakuza godfather, _At least we won't have to worry about any extradition_ _paperwork._ Luckily for one blonde detective, it seemed the Yakuza oyabun was a little rusty. They'd both pulled their triggers at the same time but only his bullet had found its mark.

The firefight yielded casualties on both sides. An EMT was cleaning up a few small cuts on Lou Grover's face and an HPD officer who'd caught a bullet in the thigh was in process of being bundled off to Queens. The wound didn't appear to be life-threatening but it would keep him in the hospital for a least a couple of days and the scar would be fodder for locker room tales for years to come. Already on their way, under guard, were two of Nozaki's men; reasonably alive but much the worse for wear. Lights and siren accompanied their journey to the jail ward at Queens Medical Center. The remaining Yakuza gunmen were now Max's problem.

On the other side of the Pacific, Interpol, in cooperation with Japan's NPA and the Tokyo Metropolitan Police had raided Nozaki's hilltop mansion. Among the huge stash of artwork were paintings reported as stolen from either private collections or museums. One of the priciest happened to be a Gustav Klimt that has been missing for eight years.

A search of the sloop that had never made it out of Honolulu Harbor yielded the trove of paintings taken from the State Museum: three Van Gogh's, two Renoirs, and one each by five other impressionists.

The governor of Hawaii was pleased. Really pleased. Like happy dance pleased.

The paintings would soon be on their way back to the museum where it may actually work out well in more ways than one. The assistant director, a fairly innovative young man now that he wasn't being held back by his former boss, (the curator who'd gone to the big museum in the sky or perhaps to a place a bit lower), had plans to capitalize on the publicity. In a glass case at the exhibit's entrance would sit a large storyboard with lovely photos of several of those who'd had a hand in solving the heist. There'd be pictures of the Governor's Special Task Force, the HPD cops, and its SWAT team. Maybe even some of the shoot-out with the Yakuza if he could find a source. For sure, there'd be a depiction of the sloop Jezebel which would clinch the deal with a piratey/romance-of-the-high-seas theme.

Things would once again be back on track – for the most part. He wondered if he could auction off the forgeries. Surely, someone would want to buy a fake Van Gogh of Mrs. Trabuc with a Chihuhua on her lap and a Lautrec depicting a very fetching Beyonce as a can-can dancer at the Moulin Rouge.

…

He remembered being awake earlier. Damn the sedatives that made everything seem unreal; like scraps of happenings that had been thrown into a hat and pulled out in random order. Nothing made a whole lot of sense. Looking up into the worried face of Kamekona perhaps they made even less sense than usual.

"What 'er you doin' ere?" he croaked out, his throat dry as sand.

"Jus brung you some eats but your ipo said you might not be up to such gastronomic awesomness."

"Thanks anyway big guy." said Steve as he blindly patted the covers for the bed control. Locating it, he pressed the button to raise it to a sitting position. "Could you hand me that cup of water?" asked the SEAL waving vaguely at the night stand next to the bed. He assumed there'd be a cup there. At least there had been every time he'd awakened from his drugged state following an infusion.

A huge hand loomed near his face as the pink plastic cup was presented. Steve reached toward it, missing it on the first attempt. Kamekona frowned and said, "You still kinda wobbly. Let me help you."

With a bit of steadying from the entrepreneur, Steve managed to swallow a few sips without spilling it all over the front of his hospital gown - the one he didn't remember donning.

"Where's everyone?" he asked, voice having improved a bit with the hydration.

"Your kaikuahine and ipo went to take a break. They ast me to stay wit you while dey're gone."

"Oh, okay." said Steve, shifting to get more comfortable if that was even possible. He still felt like crap and knew he would until sometime tomorrow. At least this was the last infusion. Now he waits.

"So, you feeling bettah?" asked Kamekona as he eased himself onto the chair on which Catherine had earlier been delicately perched. The chair creaked under this new burden but it held.

"Let's just say that I'm still alive." replied Steve with a faint grin.

 _Barely,_ thought Kamekona - the guy looks like shit.

…..

The two women had gone downstairs to the hospital's sunny courtyard. Passing a coffee cart on the way, Mary purchased a latte and a cinnamon roll while her companion bought a bottle of water to go with her lunch.

"So" began Mary as they took their seats at a tile topped table under an umbrella. "I hear you split for parts unknown without any warning to Steve?"

Catherine raised her dark brows. "Boy, you don't mince words, do you?" she replied.

"Not when it involves my brother, no." said Mary, fire banking in her hazel eyes. "What the hell? After he'd waited for you for months, you took off and dumped him again after only a few days!"

With a sigh, Catherine replied, "I told him not to wait but, yeah, it worked out that way." She'd just been ambushed. Since she'd arrived back in Honolulu she'd been wondering how long it would take for the subject to come up. Everyone seemed to be keeping their resentment under control but she could sense it simmering under the surface. Aware that Mary Ann McGarrett is a live-wire, both from interacting with her in the past and from her brother's humorous recountings and sometimes angry rants about his sister's 'adventures'. If _anyone_ other than Danny was going to confront her about what she'd done it would be Mary.

"I tried to stay, I really did but circumstances wouldn't let me." she offered.

"Circumstances? What the hell kind of circumstance would make you abandon someone who's so hung up on you that he waited for a whole fucking year before he even tried to move on?"

"I didn't think . . ."

"What? You didn't think it would totally wreck him? How could you not even know it wouldn't?! He never said anything about it other than you'd taken a job overseas and he was okay with it but I could tell something didn't sound right. It wasn't like before when you'd get separated by being deployed to different parts of the world. This time it was way different."

"It actually was kind of like that – being deployed to different places. He had his job here and I had one somewhere else." said Catherine defensively.

"Bullshit! It's only a job! You could've turned it down!"

Catherine looked sadly back at her before answering, "No. I couldn't."

Mary, flushed with anger, looked back at her with an unbelieving expression. "You totally screwed him over Catherine! He's already had enough people bail on him. It wrecked him when our mom abandoned us and then add on that our dad sent us off like we were pound puppies! Like we we'd outgrown our cuteness and were just . . . just burdens so now it was time to dump us. Steve never had a chance to really talk to dad about it but he understood it and forgave him when I didn't. I couldn't figure out how he could be so loyal to those who'd abandoned him." Mary's eyes bored into hers as she said, "I still can't".

Catherine Rollins sat stoically regarding the angry woman. There's nothing she can say that would mollify her. There's no way she could give any details of the 'job' that had taken her away from one she loved with nearly every atom of her being. She couldn't even tell Steve.

They sat silently in the shade of a brightly cheerful umbrella as birds flitted noisily about the courtyard, landing intermittently on the backs of unoccupied chairs to cock their heads at the humans who just might offer them some crumbs.

Her lunch now abandoned, Catherine turned her head away from Mary to gaze absently at the beady black eyes that regarded her from only a few feet away. The bird cocked its head as though waiting for some sort of answer. She didn't have one. She didn't have an explanation she could give to Mary. She hadn't had one she could give to Steve without endangering what she'd been compelled to do. It would have endangered him as well because he would have followed her. She'd flat out lied to him and, God bless him, he'd believed her.

"Mary, there's no way I can can make it up to him. There's nothing I can tell you about why I left. I know you're holding me accountable for what I had to do, something I had no control over." Mary snorted derisively but Catherine continued, "I know that I hurt Steve . . . badly. But now, it's important that I am here to support him. I talked to his doctors . . ."

When Mary raised a questioning eyebrow, Catherine supplied, "Steve never took me off his medical forms. I still listed as POA and next-of-kin along with Danny. Anyway, they explained how the condition progresses and how the new drug will stop it – if it even does. There's no guarantee it's going to work. Right now, they don't see that it's helping. There's the real possibility it won't and that . . .", her voice caught, " and that he won't survive this."

Mary's eyes immediately flooded with tears and she shakily dabbed at them with a scrunched up napkin. "I know." she replied softly. "I know he could die." Then, all composure deserting her she sobbed, "Catherine! You can't leave him again! I hate your guts right now but Steve needs you!"

The dark-eyed woman stood from her chair and went around the small table to kneel next to her and, reaching up, gathered her in her arms. Mary clung to her tightly as Catherine let her cry onto her shoulder, her own tears spilling over to trail down her cheeks.

She still had a decision to make and it wasn't going to be an easy one but, for now, she would stay.

….

Two days later, Steve wobbled his way out the door to the corridor. This would be his first outing without a wheelchair or an escort. It was a covert op. Using what Danny called his ninja skills, he managed to avoid being seen by the nurses. What they don't know won't hurt them. Holding onto the walls for support he made his way to the elevator. The gang had been here yesterday and informed him that the case had been wrapped up and had given him the details.

Though there would be no case-closed beers, today he is celebrating. He slipped unseen into the elevator and punched the button for the ground floor while ignoring his reflection on the walls of the mirrored box. He didn't need a reminder of his appearance and resolutely kept his eyes front. The elevator stopped at lobby level and he slowly but stealthily made his way to the doors that opened onto the courtyard. Emerging into the cool air, he paused to take as deep a breath as he dared. The space was only dimly lit here and there to keep people from stumbling into the scattered patches of shrubbery. Looking upward, he saw that the sky was just beginning to lighten. It was blessedly silent here. He sought out a place that wasn't visible from the big glass windows that looked onto this sanctuary from the early morning stirrings in the buildings that surround it. Deciding on a concrete bench, with a bare hand he wiped at the dew that had gathered on its surface. The cool wetness felt good on his fingertips and he smiled. Ignoring the damp, he sat down with a sigh.

Today is the day the results of his latest labs will be available. They are going to show if the treatment is beginning to work . . . or not. The meeting with Fanning and Shan is scheduled for nine am.

At this moment, he's taking the opportunity to enjoy a world without people scurrying about with trays, needles, and all the other stuff that had been his life for what seemed forever. Depending on how things go, he may not get many more chances to do this – sit alone and enjoy the silence as he watches the sun come up. Catherine will be here at eight and they'll have some time together before she goes to the meeting with him. If nothing comes up at work, Danny will be there as well.

Relishing the cool, damp, air, he once again inhaled as deeply as he dared without causing a fit of coughing. The doctors had been alarmed at fluid that had gathered in his lungs but it seemed to be under control for now. In the distance, he could hear the faint swish of traffic as commuters took to the wakening streets. If he closed his eyes it sounded nearly like the place he'd missed so dearly. He longed to dive into the waves of the ocean that was an elemental part of himself. He'd felt like like a goldfish in a bowl for so long now.

He hadn't told anyone but he could feel his life, like a silken ribbon, slipping through his fingers. It was a temptation to let go but he'd promised Danny he'd fight as long as he could. He'd been trying really hard to keep his promise.

Then there was Catherine . . .

Tilting his head back once again to look up at the dark rectangle visible above the courtyard, he could see the last of the stars fading as the sky was keeping its promise to replace blackness with color. Slate blue edged with a flush of pink crept slowly from its eastern edge. Dawn was coming.

He wondered how many more of them he would see.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Note: Have done the final tally that included last minute votes and it was really close. There were those who'd lobbied that Steve, if he has any self-respect, should grow a pair and dump Catherine. Have to agree but, (to my horror), have realized that I may be a closet romantic. This is tougher than I'd thought! Despite my best efforts, it looks like there will be at least one extra chapter. There are still too many things that need to be addressed before the story can end. There may be something of a surprise coming up. Please don't hate me.**

 **Know that your comments and opinions are as desperately wished for as the ending to this friggin' election!**


	37. Small Steps, Big Journey

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 37

 **Next to last chapter. Please read the notes at the end of it. They may or may not make you happy.**

 **Thanks to everyone for their comments, follows, and favorites. Have read every word of them and, when possible, incorporated your suggestions into this story. It makes it fun for me and I hope you guys like the result. Haven't had time to get back to you all yet but I will shortly.**

 **SPNGran took a shot at this and, as usual, Imaginary Beta did her best to undo all her good work by messing with it afterward. All remaining mistakes can be blamed on her interference.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't make money from this. May never get to Hawaii but the dream remains unconquered – sort of like Windows 10. Do I sound bitter?**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Small Steps, Big Journey

 **Last night:**

This is a case-closed celebration but rather than assembling at Side Street, (their usual haunt), they'd come here to the semi-dive called Luau Louie's. They'd chosen the neighborhood bar because, one - this place is quiet, and two - it didn't seem right to go to their usual hangout without Steve.

The art had been recovered, all of Five-0's paperwork had been filed, and the governor had called to tell them 'good job'. It should have been a boisterous occasion but it wasn't. Tomorrow holds the portent of life or death for their friend.

Danny raised his bottle of dark lager and declared, "A toast!"

The other members of the team obediently hoisted beverages ranging from beer to Mai Tais, (the profiler among them could again consider herself merely a tourist), and waited expectantly.

"Here's to closing this friggin, never-ending, pain-in-the-ass, case." announced the detective. Then, holding up a hand to quiet any response he added, "And here's to the one who brought us all together: a mutt from Jersey, two of Hawaii's finest, another mutt from Chicago, (Lou didn't protest), and a Homeland Security agent from the wilds of DC.. May our fearless leader soon be well enough to come back and kick our asses to his heart's content."

"Huli pau!" declared Chin, Kono, and even Danny, while Lou and Lori went with "Cheers!" as they solemnly clinked glassware and bottles before taking the first sips of their drinks.

"So, how is Steve?" asked Chin who, with the activity of late, hadn't had time to check in with their sidelined leader.

"He's hanging in there." said Danny who followed it with what sounded like a discouraged sigh.

"It's been almost a week since the final dose." mused Lori as though talking to herself. She'd taken the little umbrella from her drink and was busy picking it apart.

"Yeah, so when does he find out if the drug is working?" asked Chin.

"There's a meeting scheduled for nine AM. tomorrow, oh, excuse me," corrected Danny with an eye-roll, "0900 hours. I told him I'll be there if I can. It all depends if Denning doesn't call to tell us he needs our skills to decide on the color to paint the lobby of the State Building or some such horse-shit like that traffic flow assignment he stuck us with."

Reminded Lou, "It was that horse-shit assignment that got us the break on the case."

"I can't believe Steve figured that out so quickly." said Lori with admiration.

"And then he translated what those guys in the blue room said in Japanese. We couldn't have done it without him." said Kono, "I hope you told Steve that."

"I told him that he's really bright for his age and that he may actually be smarter than he looks." snarked Danny before he took a long pull on his beer.

"Even if he didn't have a brain in his head, he'd still be nice to look at." muttered Lori, before she realized she'd voiced it out loud and it may not have been the best thing to say. Perhaps she could blame it on the Mai Tai. Flushing brightly, she covered her eyes and said, "Oh my God, I can't believe I said that."

"Don't worry, sistah." laughed Kono, "You're only saying what half the female population and, according to the statistics, maybe ten to fifteen percent of the male population on the island are thinking."

Chin cleared his throat and said, "Even if the Governor does call, we'll make sure you can be there, Danny. Steve needs all the support he can get."

The unvoiced thought among them all is ' _if the news isn't good_ '.

"We'll come up with something if he calls and asks for you, Danny. If we can't, we'll just tell the Governor that ohana is more important than catching bad guys." smiled Kono.

"Yeah, that'll work." snorted Grover.

...

 **This morning:**

He'd made it back to the room hoping that it wasn't noticed he'd been gone. No such luck. Tina was on him like Danny on a malasada.

"So, just what was so important that you had to sneak off this floor?!" demanded the nurse as she stood in the middle of the room; hands on ample hips.

Unintimidated by the woman who outweighed him by probably fifty pounds or so, he grinned back at her and cheekily replied, "Missed me huh?"

"Missed you? You're lucky I didn't have security start a search for your wayward behind! From past history I know it's entirely possible that you'd left the hospital completely. I even considered calling your team to see if they'd heard from you."

"Thanks for holding off on that." said Steve as he eased himself back onto his bed. If his mother-hen partner finds out he went AWOL, even if only for a little while, he'd never hear the end of it. Bringing to mind the maxim 'forewarned is forearmed', Steve worriedly asked, "You're not going to tell Danny, are you?"

"Of course not." snorted Tina, "You think I want to hear that little man rip you a new one? That'd be much too stressful for us both, honey."

Satisfied she'd made her point, the big nurse began laying out the various syringes and color coded tubes for a blood draw, "So, did you accomplish your _mission_ , Commander?" She asked, accentuating the word with which he would surely identify. She'd already assumed it was something important to her peripatetic patient or he'd never have undertaken what, for him, had to be an exhausting journey.

"Yeah, I did." he replied as he automatically extended his arm for her to access the picc line. "I only went to sit in the patio for a bit. I haven't been outside for so long I guess I just had to prove to myself that I won't burst into flame if sunlight actually touched my skin."

"Oh, you mean like in a vampire movie? If that's the case, what does that make me; the one who's been giving you blood tranfusions all this time?"

"Well, I guess you're a bit too corporeal to be a superntural bat." he mused with a smile.

"Corporeal?" she asked.

"You know, um, substantial . . . fleshy. . ."

"Did you just call me fat!?" she exclaimed.

"What? No! I just meant that . . ."

Tina cut him off with an uncharacteristic giggle. "Just yankin' your chain, honey. You're way too easy."

Losing the alarmed expression he smiled fondly at her. "Tina, I umm, I'm sorry for giving you a hard time. Thanks for putting up with me."

While carefully sterilizing the port so she could flush the line, she replied without looking up, "You don't have to thank me, honey. I know this hasn't been easy on you and, as for giving me a hard time, I do admit that you are certainly one of the most _determined_ patients who's ever landed in this ward."

"I guess being called determined is probably better than calling me what you're really thinking." he smiled.

Concentrating on pushing saline into the line, she replied, "I know you're someone who's always been active and independent so being cooped up in a hospital room is a misery for you. I think you should get a little extra leeway over patients who come in for nose jobs or butt lifts."

"There's really such a thing as a butt lift?" he chuckled.

Within a couple of minutes the nurse had finished the preparation and was now drawing blood into a stoppered tube. He watched as the glass vial filled with the dark liquid; thinking it's a miracle he had any of it left to draw.

He took a breath then slowly let it out before saying, "I don't think I ever told you how much I appreciate all you've done for me, Tina. I um . . . I just didn't want to leave here without telling you that."

Head still bent over her task, she deftly swapped out the filled tube for an empty one then looked up to see sincere hazel eyes regarding her. Straightening she asked, "You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you?"

Not answering her question, he looked toward the window and instead replied, "You know, we're on the west side of the building here. We get to see all those beautiful sunsets but being able to watch the sun come up . . . well, that was really nice for a change. It felt so good to be out of this room and outdoors where I could see it."

Shaking her head at the non-answer, she completed the blood draw; several tubes now ready to go to the lab. She flushed the picc line once once again, capped it off, and then announced, "All done. Now you should take a nap if you can. I doubt you've gotten much sleep what with wandering around this hospital at all hours."

He nodded; shifting position on the thin mattress to get more comfortable. She saw him wince and asked. "What hurts?"

"My hip." he admitted. "Fanning drilled into it yesterday like he was looking to strike oil. It's still sore." Then sighing he said, "All the tests in the world aren't going to help if I'm gonna croak anyway."

The previous afternoon, right after the team had gone home, he'd been ambushed by the hematologist and another bone marrow sample had been taken. Its after-effects had his hip aching again. Assuming the hematologist was only confirming the worst with a marrow biopsy, he didn't even question its purpose.

Now the nurse spoke up in exasperation, "I know I told you before to knock off the drama. Even if it seems like you're just going through the motions, Dr. Fanning doesn't order tests for the insurance payments. You've got one of the best doctors on the island, if not in the entire country, looking out for you. He _is_ gonna be pissed however if you ruin his rep by, as you put it, 'croaking'." Tina rolled her eyes at the word he'd used, "So, commander, you'd better stick around." Then she softened her tone slightly to say, "You got a lot of people around here who'd miss your ornery ass."

He smiled wanly back at her as, still muttering to herself, she gathered up all the tubes to hand them off to the lab.

"Honey," she said, "I know you don't feel all that well but, from what I've observed, you certainly haven't gotten any worse. Your mouth has pretty much stopped bleeding, right?"

"Yeah" he agreed with an affirmative nod.

"And you haven't had a nosebleed in a few days now, right?"

Again he nodded.

" _And,_ painful as it was, you came out of that last infusion pretty quickly. You recovered well enough to go for a walk."

Another nod from the man in the bed.

"Small steps, honey. No one's counting you out yet. Now, get some sleep. Don't make me come back with a sedative." she threatened.

He smiled fondly back at her before replying, "No need for that, I think I'm tired enough to sleep through a death metal concert."

She gathered up the rest of the debris and just before she turned away he said, "Thanks for the pep-talk, Tina. It's just that I'm getting tired of it all. It seems as though I've been here forever."

"I know that but don't give up yet. You've got a whole lot of people in your corner pulling for you. All you have to do is ask for help when you need it; something I know you have a problem with but just ask. We got you covered. So, keep up the fight for us, okay?"

"Okay." he sighed.

She looked up at the clock then set down the tray holding the tubes and said, "It's close enough to the regular time for it so I'm just gonna get a blood pressure reading before I leave. She pulled the BP monitor closer to the be and wrapped a cuff around his arm. "Just relax and shut the hell up so you can get some rest before your friends get here." she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." he replied with a grin as he obediently closed his eyes.

The big nurse gazed down at one of her all-time favorite patients and smiled. She'd gotten to know him over the weeks he'd been under her care and, for someone with such a badass reputation, the man was less a warrior and more like one of her kids, sweet but sometimes too mule-headed for his own good.

He was asleep before she'd even deflated the cuff to remove it.

...

 _It's Memorial Day and vets from all branches had been invited to its commemoration at Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery. Looking out over the large gathering, he could see there were attendees who'd fought in World War II and every action since; the oldest and most infirm sitting in the front row. Many of the most aged were now too feeble to stand until the ceremony was over._

 _Unfortunately, the old guys weren't the only ones who had trouble standing for long periods. He's still in process of healing from surgery he'd had over a month ago at Landstuhl. Several pieces of shrapnel had been removed from his lower legs. Despite his protests, he'd been ordered to sit on an empty chair in the row occupied by several who'd served years before he'd even been born._

 _Waiting for the ceremony to begin, one of the old guys seated next to him struck up a conversation; asking where he'd been wounded, (classified), and how long he'd been a SEAL, (three years). Their conversation ended when a man wearing a clerical collar approached the dais, adusted the mic, and cleared his throat._

 _When the ceremony ended, he and a few of his buddys decided to observe the occasion in an additional way. He still had several weeks of sick leave but his companions were due to be deployed again within a couple of days and were determined to make the most of their downtime. Still on meds and restricted from drinking anything alcoholic, he'd been declared their designated driver. The group repaired to a nearby bar popular among the military on Coronado where they sat talking smack and giving each other shit for an hour or so when a couple of the old guys who'd attended the commemoration ceremony walked in._

 _Both were Army; dressed in the olive drab uniforms they'd worn probably fifty years ago. Chevrons on their sleeves declared each a sergeant while battle ribbons on chests attested to service in a hard fought war. While one of the uniforms was much too baggy on its wizzened wearer, buttons on the other's Eisenhower jacket strained to contain extra poundage acquired by the formerly svelt master sergeant._

 _The group of SEALS loudly greeted the oldtimers; one of the more boisterous of the Navy men inviting the aged veterans to sit and have a drink. For a couple of hours, old and young sat drinking and swapping tales. They'd learned the two Army vets had been drafted from opposite sides of the country and had participated in the Battle of the Bulge. The boy from New Jersey and the boy from California had met in boot camp, become fast friends, and managed to survive battle during a harsh winter in the Ardennes._

 _The skinnier of the two, Larry, having nearly drunk his new Navy friends under the table, related how time-and-again he'd cheated death at the hands of the enemy or even the elements. After several rounds he'd slurred, "If you fellas get into tough straits, the best advice I can give you is to consider yourself already dead. It takes off some of the stress and, if the Grim Reaper finds you, it won't be sucha surprise."_

Tina came to check on him about half an hour after he'd fallen asleep. She watched as her patient's brow furrowed while he moved restlessly on the narrow bed. He was obviously dreaming.

She didn't know that, even in sleep, Steve lay weighing his future. _M_ _aybe he should consider himself already dead._

...

There is no longer any need for his testimony considering the one he'd agreed to testify against is now cooling in a drawer at the M.E.'s office.

 _Okay, now what?_ Thought the tall, blonde, man who sat scrolling through the screen on a laptop.

Of course, the damned cops had put filters on his internet access as though he was a horny fourteen-year old surfing for trouble. There'd be no porn, no Facebook, no Snapchat, no Twitter; no social media accessible to him on the laptop belonging to the Governor's Special Task Force. His life is officially as boring as it could possibly be. Watching paint dry would actually be exciting at this point.

So what are they going to do with him? The threat to his life may not be as immediate as it had been the last few weeks but, like cockroaches, when you kill one Yakuza, another pops up from some dark crevice to take its place. His pursuers are inevitably going to show-up somewhere to try to finish the job they'd started. Now, with Nozaki's death, they were even more motivated to off him. One of their head honchos had been killed because of the information he'd given the cops. There's no way they'd let that pass unavenged.

Well, it was probably time to retire anyway. It's just that he'd envisioned his golden years on a beach in the south of France rather than on a couch in a low-rent hotel. This one isn't even as nice as the last flea-bag they'd stashed him at. He once again lamented over the lack of room service. Sighing, he picked up the laptop from the coffee table. Maybe he could find a funny cat video.

….

Steve and Catherine walked arm in arm along the corridor toward the conference room. If one didn't know better, they appeared as lovers taking a leisurely stroll. But that wasn't the case.

One of the two is pale and possibly a bit shaky. If you look closely you can see that the tall man is relying on the woman to steady him as they walk. They stop a couple of times for him to catch his breath before he smiles and says, 'I'm good.' and they continue toward their destination.

The next time they stop, the woman, a dark-haired beauty, smiles encouragingly and then suggests that maybe she should go get a wheelchair. He grins lopsidedly then reassures her with, "This is a piece of cake".

She doesn't look as though she believes him but after a moment she smiles and says with a shake of her head, "You're still a stubborn ass."

They continue their journey.

…

He'd been to this conference room before and vividly remembers when he'd met with his doctors and learned his life was going to be hell for the foreseeable future.

The room hadn't changed, the colors were still soothing, the big white write-on board was still at the front of the room and the big flat screen monitor was still mounted next to it.

They took their seats; Steve glad to be sitting again. He was tired and his legs were starting to feel more than a little wobbly. It was a good thing Cath was here to lean on.

Before he could contemplate the meaning of that last thought – of leaning once again on Catherine, Danny entered the room; all pent-up energy, possibly due to the contents of a giant take-out coffee cup he was carrying.

"Hey, I stopped by your room but you'd already left. Are we early or are they late?"

"A little of each I think." smiled Steve, glad to see his best friend. Depending on the news, he may need him here more than he can admit.

A moment later, Tom Fanning flew into the room, looking slightly breathless. "Sorry, I got hung up on . . ." he started to explain before stopping himself. He rolled his eyes and said, "I was going to lie and say that I had a patient to tend to but in reality, I overslept."

"Where's Dr. Shan?" asked the sandy-haired doctor, eyes roving the room as though the nephrologist could be hiding behind a chair or something.

"He apparently overslept as well." said Danny, half in irritation, half in jest.

"Did not!" they heard from the doorway as the stocky physician strode into the room with a folder under his arm. "I had to check this report once again and be absolutely sure of the information I'm going to give you."

That said, both doctors immediately began to lay out various charts and graphs along with transparencies. Walking to the projector set on a small table several feet away, Shan laid a sheet of film onto the lighted surface. "I'm afraid I'm a little behind the times with computer technology . . ."

"That's not very encouraging from one of the top nephrologists in the country, Lloyd." snarked Fanning from his seat where he was quickly clicking through the files on his laptop. "Next thing we know, you'll admit that you still don't know how to use Twitter or haven't yet figured out how lava lamps work."

Shan shot him a glare but said, "This will do just fine." as he fiddled with the projector and a bright square appeared on the white board.

Over the next twenty-five minutes, with Shan using the projector and Fanning using his laptop, the doctors gave their reports on Steve's condition. Most of the time was spent quoting various statistics regarding the results of the tests. Acronyms like ANC, PMN, FBT and etcetera were tossed out with the doctors interpreting their meanings.

Danny, finally losing his limited patience said, "Look, just tell me if Steve's getting better or not!"

Both physicians looked up a bit surprised at the question, they'd already pretty much explained it.

Fanning was the first to answer, "Steve is improving on some fronts and remaining static on others. His white cell count is making a comeback, red cells and platelets not so much. That means his immune system is improving but his blood's clotting ability and the cells that carry oxygen are not. There has to be a much greater improvement in both those things before we can consider him in remission."

From her chair Catherine rubbed her hand along Steve's back as he sat beside her while Danny patted him on his shoulder from the other side.

Then it was the nephrologist's turn. Shan said, "The hematuria is improving and the SSA's don't look too bad . . ." When both Cath and Danny raised their eyebrows in question, the doctor rolled his eyes and replied slowly and carefully as though speaking to five-year-olds, "There isn't as much blood present and um, the other um readings look to be improving. Steve's kidneys are slightly better than when he first arrived."

Danny murmured something under his breath. Catherine heard the words, 'Neanderthal', 'idiot' and 'pissing blood'." She'd have to ask later what that was about.

"All-in-all," continued Shan as he addressed Steve directly, "the latest results show that your kidney function is somewhat better. The right one, the one that was of the most concern, is slowly improving and the left hasn't lost any ground. So, you're doing well."

Steve smiled before furrowing his brow and asking, "So, do I still have to pee a plastic jug?"

Shan actually smiled before answering, "For now, yes. We still have to monitor your output."

Fanning caught Steve's expression upon learning that he was still required to 'pee in a jug' and said, "Do remember, Steve, that you no longer require a Foley. So, I wouldn't complain too much about this minor inconvenience."

"Yeah, I guess I shouldn't complain." he glumly agreed, "That was a welcome improvement to say the least." Then, leaning forward he asked "So, when so you think I can get the hell out of here?"

Fanning quickly answered, "Only when those red cell and platelet counts improve. They still have to meet certain levels before we can turn you loose. Sorry Steve."

The SEAL digested the statement for a few moments as his companions once again patted him consolingly. Then, as though gathering intel for an op, with eyes focused intently on the two doctors he asked, "So, what target are we lookin' at here?"

….

A half-full, cup of coffee from the 'magic' vending machine on the fourth floor finished cooling on the table next to the empty chair. Danny had gone back to work hyped on caffeine. Steve felt sorry for his teammates; they were in for a noisy afternoon.

Steve and Catherine sat side by side on the edge of his bed as rolling carts laden with trays of food rattled past the doorway. They'd be dropping off a lunch tray for him soon though he still wouldn't be eating most of what was on it.

But, despite the din of activity in the corridor, it seemed eerily still and quiet in his room. He knew this was the time to settle what had been unsettled for so long and the apprehension of it made his heart pound. Ignoring it for days, he'd chosen to just soak up whatever her presence provided, but he couldn't avoid it any longer.

His eyes fastened on the woman next to him. The sunlight coming thought the blinds caught her hair, giving it the iridescence of a bird's wing. His chest ached as he gazed at the one who'd meant everything to him. He wanted to clutch her to him and never let her go again. Instead, he took a deep breath which wasn't all that deep and asked.

"Catherine?" he asked, "Are you staying this time?"

"Do you really want me to?" she'd asked, her eyes searching his.

"Of course I want you to. Why would you think I wouldn't?" The question took him by surprise. He'd been prepared if she'd said 'no' but how could she think he didn't want her to stay?

"Well, for one thing, when we parted that last time, you told me," (she closed her eyes and heard it again in her head), "Catherine if you leave this time, I can't wait for you – not anymore." Even now, those words made her throat tighten and her voice catch. She looked down so that he couldn't see her eyes beginning to tear up though he could probably tell.

There was a long pause before he replied, "That was probably the dumbest thing I've ever said."

"You know . . ." her breath caught once again before she gathered herself, "I wanted to stay. I really did. I should have told everyone to go screw themselves but I couldn't. I'm so sorry, Steve, but I couldn't refuse the assignment. There was . . . there was too much riding on it."

"Cath, I know that you were working in Ukraine. I suspect it has something to do with Doris."

When she didn't reply, he knew he was right. His mother is somehow involved in this. Even though she's not here, she's still screwing with his life. There's no way he could ever think of the woman without anger. Hurt had long been replaced with it. It may not be healthy but it is what it is. He had no more time to waste on someone who could never put her family first – what is left of it.

"Cath, you need to decide if you're going to stay or if you're leaving again. You need to be honest with me. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. Just give me the truth; I deserve that much."

The air in the room seemed to thicken; time, mired in tension, slowed as his heart beat ever faster.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Because the vote was close and because arguments on both sides of the 'Catherine' issue were so compelling, (and because I'm a coward), there will be an alternate ending. It will be posted separately as 'No Stranger to Hell – Alternate Ending', (clever title, huh). I had done this with a previous story and it seemed to work. You can yell at me if you like.**


	38. Stay

No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 38

 **Okay people, here's the final one. It's been a long ride and having you guys keep me company on the journey made it wonderful fun.**

 **Special thanks to sue2556 for her Danny/Denning idea.**

 **There will be errors in this because I was rushing to get this chapter and the alternate ending completed before tonight's episode. SPNGran is exhausted and Imaginary Beta has already passed-out and is face down in her corn flakes. Guess I pushed them a little too hard.**

 **Disclaimer: Never made a dime from this but writing is its own reward, (and Jimmy Hoffa and Elvis are still alive and run a hookah shop in Tarzana).**

 **Note: The alternate ending is posted separately under the very clever title 'No Stranger to Hell – Alternate Ending.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Stay**

8:30 am:

Standing unnoticed in an alcove along the corridor leading to the elevators, she watches the two from a distance and quietly sighs. Steve and Catherine are walking arm in arm down the long hallway. It had been a few days since his last treatment and today he should find out if it was all worth it. The news Steve receives today could be positive or it could be devastating.

Something had made her come here this morning. She didn't want to intrude but she had to make sure. She knows that watching his painful battle would have been heart wrenching for anyone, let alone someone who supposedly loves him. She had to see for herself that the woman would be there for him - she hadn't bailed again.

She knows now that she isn't needed. Catherine is here now and Steve, despite his illness, appears happy. _He certainly deserves happiness,_ she thinks. Steve is too good a man not to be able to have what so many have . . . someone to love who loves them back.

It was only a few days after she'd first joined the governor's task force that she knew her own feelings for its intense leader were possibly more than those of friendship. In the years since her departure from the islands they'd never abated.

In her heart she knew this desire would remain unrequited but thought she should give it a shot. Funny thing is, she'd called Catherine herself knowing that if Steve's former girlfriend returned it may serve to rekindle what is now obvious – the man is still stone in love Catherine Rollins.

She hopes that fierce, unyielding, love is mutual - that Catherine feels the same toward Steve. If that isn't the case then he'd again be hurt and she, Lori Weston, would be partially responsible. If it came to that, there'd be at least two women willing to kick some ex-girlfriend ass. Kono would welcome the opportunity to join her in doing so.

Lori turned away to walk toward the elevators at the other end of the corridor. She'd come back later. Maybe spending a few hours on the beach would be nice. Of course, she'd have to invest in a heavy duty sunblock; SPF one-thousand or something. Her skin is unused to feeling the kiss of the Hawaiian sun and returning home with a second-degree burn isn't the plan. While satisfyingly productive this vacation hadn't been quite as she'd anticipated. So now she's doomed to return home as she'd left, ghostly pale, or with some serious damage to her delicate hide.

The Homeland Security profiler glumly considers the wintery weather that will be greeting her in DC upon her return. It's going to be cold and gloomy for at least another couple months and slogging her way through grimy slush to get to the Metro will again be a fact of life. After experiencing the warmth and Technicolor of Hawaii it will be depressing.

All was not in vain however. It had been great to work with the team again. Five-0 is the most loyal and badass gang on the planet. She's going to miss her friends – one of them in particular.

Sighing with resignation, a thought came to her as she observed her reflection in the bronzed mirror surface of the elevator walls. Maybe she could fake out her DC homies with a spray-on tan?

…..…..…

11:17 am:

The team was gathered around the smart table when Danny strode in looking tired but clearly hyped on caffeine. They're staring at the big screen; looking at a photo of a man in uniform; his cap and badge identifying him as a member of HPD.

"Who's that?" he asked as he walked up to stand beside them.

"That's Officer William Dow, our mole." answered Chin. "Well, our late mole." he amended.

"He's dead?" asked Danny, brows raised in question. He didn't recognize the guy from his days at HPD but he didn't know everyone there.

"Yup. Duke called early this morning to tell us he'd been found that way in Haleiwa." said the Hawaiian, referring to a town on the North Shore. "HPD had discovered evidence that Dow had been working for the Yakuza. IAD was closing in but before they could make an arrest his body turned up in the parking lot of a donut shop."

"He'd been dead for a while." said Kono. "Max found ice crystals in his tissues so he was probably killed long before the shootout."

"He'd been double tapped with a .9 mil, but the coup de gras was a single shot from a .22 to the back of the head execution style. Of course there was no blood at the scene. He'd obviously been dumped there." said Lou.

"I guess leaving his body at a donut shop is some kind of statement?" asked Danny.

"Yeah, who even knew the Yakuza were into cultural references." replied the former SWAT captain.

"This also wraps up another, well, four other murders." said Chin, "Being that the victim was one of ours and, of course a priority, Max sent the bullets to the lab and put a rush on it."

Continuing the narrative, Lou Grover went on, "The .9 mil slugs match those used on the guys killed in the prison van a few weeks ago. They came back one of the guns found at Nozaki's hidey-hole. The .22 was actually in the pocket of one of the yahoos Kono took care of."

With a tired and relieved sigh Danny responded, "Well, I guess that saves time and energy. HPD hadn't made any progress. I'd had a 'conversation' with Denning about the prison van murders." Danny knew the word he'd stressed would be correctly interpreted that his talk with the State of Hawaii's head honcho had been tense.

"Is there any coffee left?" he asked, running a hand tiredly over his face.

He'd noticed that no one was holding a cup. At this hour of the day, everyone would have needed a caffeine jolt. So maybe there wasn't any left. Maybe it was one of those delicious flavored varieties that Kono liked to bring in every once-in-a-while.

"Yeah, sure. There's a whole pot." smiled Grover gesturing toward the kitchen and starting to walk in that direction, "I'd be glad to get you a cup."

Danny cocked his head suspiciously. The man was too quick with his offer. "You made it. Didn't you?" he accused.

"Well, yeah." answered Grover. "Used my special method."

"Your special method is to brew it like Steve showed you. I know he must have told you to strain it through a dirty sock. Just the fumes from that stuff would peel paint off the walls. No thanks."

Grover rolled his eyes but didn't really look offended. No one liked his or Steve's coffee; that's why there was a whole pot left. He returned to his place at the smart table and said to the disparager of his coffee brewing skills, "So explain to us, oh great temporary leader. Why weren't we working the case?"

"I told Denning we already knew it had to be Yakuza. Since our esteemed employer was hot to find the paintings, he dropped the van case on HPD, hoping they could work it on their own."

"I was wondering why we weren't involved in that." Kono mused aloud.

"Denning and I also had a go-round on him pushing Steve so hard that the man felt he didn't have time to get to the doctor."

 _(Weeks ago in the Governor of Hawaii's Office):_

" _I hope the Commander isn't seriously ill." said Sam Denning, as an afterthought to the discussion of the murders of the two guards and the Yakuza thugs._

" _Yeah, I hope so too." said Danny; not hiding his sarcasm._

" _You have something to say, Detective Williams?" asked Denning, the tone of Five-0's temporary leader hadn't escaped him._

 _Unable to hide the anger he felt toward Steve's employer, Danny let it all out. "Yeah, I do have something to say!" Hands immediately deployed to illustrate his displeasure with the issue, he began: "Why the hell did you push Steve so hard when you had to know something was wrong! The man ran himself into the ground trying to keep you off our backs! Those paintings are nowhere near the value of the man who works his ass off for you! There is no dollar value you can put on a human being; especially one so dedicated to keeping everyone on this friggin'' pile of smoking lava safe!"_

 _Denning didn't react to what he knew was only the beginning of a tirade. Williams was famous for holding nothing back; though his ire was usually directed at the unfortunate Commander McGarrett. He himself had heard the loud exchanges between Five-0's leader and his second-in-command. Several times before meetings at the state building, their voices had carried from the anteroom into his office. Denning stood impassively listening to the angry accusation he very probably deserved._

" _You had several meetings with him over that last month when it had become obvious the man was about to drop in his tracks! He'd lost more than twenty pounds, was pale as bowl of rice, and looked like the walking dead! How could you not miss that?! And if you didn't miss those_ _not so subtle_ _signs he was sick; why did you continue to put him through the wringer!_ "

" _Detective," said Denning evenly, "I did inquire about his health. The Commander assured me he was fine."_

" _Of course he did but you know he'd say that even if he'd severed an artery and was gushing blood all over the state's hideously expensive Persian carpet!" barked Williams before controlling himself. He stood breathing hard as he looked into the distance, lips drawn into a tight line._

" _My fault, detective, is that I didn't insist he stand down when he was so obviously under the weather. Time and again he stated that he was capable of performing his duty. The Commander and I have had our moments but, besides being impressed by his dedication to his job, I have been impressed with his ability to assess troubling situations. I agreed to let him continue if he felt well enough to perform his duty."_

" _Oh." said Danny in a much quieter voice than used during his earlier tirade, his angry flush now fading._

 _Then, Sam Denning, dark eyes boring into the man before him asked, "Are you done now?"_

" _Yeah, I mean yes sir." answered the compact detective. Then amending the declaration that his end of the conversation was complete, he cleared his throat and said, "Well, I um, I do have one more question."_

" _And it is?" asked Denning still impassive but curious._

" _Do I still have a job?"_

(Back to the present):

"Well, I guess it's all wrapped up then." said Danny to the others who he knew had to be entertaining the thought that they'd have liked to be flies on the wall during his meeting with the Governor.

"Nice and neat." agreed Chin. "The ones responsible are either dead or in the prison ward at Queens."

"Guess that calls for at a toast, even if it's with that roach killer that Lou calls coffee." Five-0's temporary leader suddenly noticed that someone was missing. "Where's Weston?" he asked.

"She's gone to visit Steve. She says, being that things have wound down, she's a tourist again and she intends to make the most of her time here before leaving in a couple of days. Her badge and gun are on your desk. She said she'll meet us tonight at Luau Louie's."

"I'm gonna miss her." said Kono glumly. She'd been too pissed at Catherine to notice how much she'd missed having another female on the team. It had been nice to work with someone who had a little less testosterone coursing through their veins. Of course, Danny had teased her that, since she's the one most like Steve, he's amazed she remained so feminine and hadn't started wearing cargo pants or getting inked on 'every friggin' inch of skin'. Thankfully, he didn't know about that butterfly on her . . ."

"Hey, Kalakaua!" she heard, "You with us?"

"Sorry Danny. Guess I'm a little tired." she smiled apologetically.

"We all are." agreed her temporary boss. "But I was asking why are we meeting tonight? Even if the mole was found, it wasn't us that found him so we didn't close that case."

"We just figured it was needed." answered Chin. "If the news about Steve was good, then we would celebrate. If it wasn't, then we'd be together to um . . . console one another."

The team knew that Steve had been scheduled get a report today about whether the drug is working or not. Danny hadn't immediately volunteered any information so they suspected the news isn't good.

"So, how is our fearless leader?" asked Lou who figured _someone_ had to ask the question.

"Did he learn if the drug is working or not?" asked Kono, biting her lip, as they all waited for the answer; eyes intently focused on the Jersey cop.

Danny ran a hand over his face then said, "Only some things have improved. He still has a way to go but at least nothing's gotten any worse."

"Well, I guess that's something." nodded Lou. They'd all been hoping for an announcement that was more definitive of a complete recovery but they'd take what they could get.

"Apparently he felt well enough to start giving everyone fits again" said Danny, with a hint of frustration and a glance toward the heavens. "He snuck off somewhere this morning before dawn and, just when they were about to send out a search party, he showed up in his room like a runaway dog whose owners had been looking for him all night only to find the mutt on the front porch, wagging his tail, when they got back."

Everyone smiled, if not in humor, then in relief. Their friend's health may very well be improving if he had the energy to be up to his usual behavior. Over the weeks he'd been in the hospital, his appearance had deteriorated to one more resembling a half-starved prisoner of war than the man who could appear on the cover of _Men's Health Magazine_.

"Of course, I had to learn of his walkabout from the night nurse because Tina has apparently gone over to the dark side." snorted Danny.

"Someone needs to tell them to put a bell on him." said Chin, greatly relieved at the news even though it wasn't completely positive.

"Even if Tina didn't rat him out, I bet she wasn't happy." laughed Kono almost giddy with relief that her friend and mentor, if not completely out of the woods, at least had a foot on the path.

"If I was a dog and Tina was looking for me I'd tuck tail and run." smiled Chin.

"Or maybe roll over on my back with my paws in the air. If Steve did that maybe Nurse Tina will take pity on him and not take a chunk out of his ornery hide. I don't think I'd mess with that woman." nodded Lou Grover, ever the dispenser of sage advice.

Those gathered around the magic table chuckled at the observations. They'd been weighed down so long with concern for their friend; all welcomed any lightness at this point.

Changing topics, Kono asked, "Now that Nozaki's dead, what are we going to do with Shaftbottom and his little buddy in county lock-up?"

"A deal's a deal I guess." said Danny. "He and Hubbard are probably still on the Yakuza's hit list so we can't just turn 'em loose and say Godspeed."

"They're still going into WITSEC?" she asked.

"They don't have much choice." said Danny. "At least they don't have to spend any more time in protective custody or jail."

"That Shaftbottom guy was a pain the ass." said Grover.

"Well, now he's someone else's pain in ass." nodded Danny.

…

11:01 am:

As was promised by this morning's cloudless dawn, the sun had made a return. The dampness of night had long evaporated as noises from the corridor invaded the quiet room along with the sunlight that speared through the half-drawn blinds. Danny had left twenty minutes ago and they sat side-by-side at the edge of his bed. The hospital's food service workers were beginning to deliver lunch to the patients in rooms along the corridor. The rattle of rolling carts and flatware thrown onto trays seemed to amplify as he waited.

He'd asked the question. Now he just needed an answer. He'd asked for the truth. Did he want to hear it?

Catherine locked her chocolate eyes on his and reached for his hand. It was cold and she cradled it between hers to warm it. "Steve, please believe that I never meant to hurt you. I don't know if you can ever trust me again but please let me try to prove to you that you can."

He remained silent. Loving her was as automatic as breathing; but trusting her was another matter. He told her not to tell him what she thinks he wants to hear. Maybe a lie is good enough for now. She's here and that's all that matters. He wonders if this neediness was what had driven him all along. Was it need rather than love? Is this attempt to repair what had been broken prompted by something other than that most positive of emotions? Does it even matter?

Making up his mind, he took a suddenly shaky breath, exhaled slowly, and said, "I don't know if we can fix it. I don't know if we can make it the way it was. Cath, I love you with all my heart. I've loved you from nearly the moment we met. I don't know why it wasn't enough and you had to leave. Maybe it's my fault. I know I'm screwed-up. I know I'm far from perfect but . . ."

"Steve, I know there's nothing . . . nothing, I can say to make up for what I did. I can only tell you that I had no choice."

Steve snorted in disbelief. "I know your job is important to you. As important as mine is to me but after you left," he paused to take a breath; tension was beginning to affect his breathing as the muscles involved in respiration began to tighten.

Closing his eyes, he willed himself to calm down.

"Are you okay, Steve?" asked Catherine worriedly as her grip on his hand became stronger.

Ignoring her question he said, "I . . . I was just going through the motions for months. I tried to move on. I dated other women but . . . none of them were you." Looking down at their entwined hands he noted their appearance; his frail, hers strong. He was struck by the contrast but it bothered him for only a brief moment. He knows some people would call it role reversal but, in their shared past, something like this wasn't all that unusual. She was the only one he'd ever deliberately let see behind the mask. The only one he talked to of self-doubt, of his value as a human being rather than just an instrument of his government's policies and disposition.

Of those on the outside of this innermost fortress, only Danny had occasional glimpses inside its walls. Those were, of course, discouraged but the guy was nothing if not persistent.

The pause allowing him to catch his breath, he looked into her eyes and said, "Cath, you don't have to tell me why you left. I understand about duty. If there's nothing else in this world I understand, I do understand that. How many times did I just disappear, sometimes for months, then come back and expect to find you waiting for me?"

A look of utter sincerity on her face, Catherine replied, "I never held that against you. It was your life. I knew that you'd come back to me. And . . . if you didn't, it was because you couldn't. I accepted that."

He sat silently regarding the one who had the power to make him the happiest or the most miserable human being on the planet. For now, she's here with him. Perhaps it will have to be enough.

"Catherine, please stay." he said.

…

The days went by; each one a little better than the last. Without any further infusions, there were none of the aftereffects to recover from. His appetite gradually improved and he began to gain back some of the weight. His stamina was much improved as well. He could actually make it down the hallway and back without stopping to rest.

The bloodwork had finally showed that his red cells were beginning to make a recovery. The platelets still had a way to go but they were on the upswing as well. He continued to get occasional infusions of packed cells and clotting agents. The only reason they were keeping him here was because his immunity was still crap and they wanted to isolate him from the big, bad world of contagion.

His team was still coming every day to keep him in the loop about Five-0's cases and, now, they brought him food as well. He could actually eat most of it.

Then, nearly two weeks later, something miraculous occurred. His immune system had finally kicked-in; improving enough that Fanning was willing to let him go home provided he stayed on antibiotics and didn't do anything to expose himself to random germs and viruses. Much to his disappointment, there was still no swimming.

The nephrologist had signed-off. Dr. Shan only wanted his patient to come in for check-ups every week for a month and then once a month for the next four. If all went well, there would be no restrictions except for alcohol. The Longboards would have to wait a while yet.

….

Martin stood on the wet sidewalk looking up at the lettering on the canopy over the door. Maroon fabric with gold foil characters, it was quite stylish if he said so himself. This wasn't exactly how he'd pictured his life, but still, _it's better than being shark food,_ sighed the former thief. Their shop would be opening tomorrow. 'Odd Cupple Coffee' is at least an appropriate name. He and Bob are now the Felix and Oscar of Mishawaka, Indiana.

He didn't regret making the deal for both himself and his accomplice. Bob Hubbard, excuse me, _John_ _Richardson_ , isn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier but at least he's a hard worker. He looked really happy puttering around the shop, getting ready for the big opening. He needed a lot of training, (the guy is a slob), but he's not entirely hopeless. The man is a wizard with an espresso machine.

…..

Two weeks ago, Danny had watched as Steve took his first swim in nearly three months. His normally taciturn partner had been grinning nearly continuously since he'd come home from the hospital. With an immune system now strong enough to withstand whatever the Pacific threw at him, the look on Steve's face was one of pure happiness. Besides living to tell the tale, the reason for this renewed good humor is that Catherine had decided to stay.

Today, Steve splashed through the waist high waves as he retrieved Gracie's surfboard for her and with Catherine on one side and he on the other, helped her get back up on it. Danny frowned at the sight of his daughter balancing on a narrow fiberglass plank in an ocean filled with sharks just waiting for unsuspecting twelve year-olds to fall off into their jaws.

This was a long time coming. The whole gang was here for the barbeque at Casa McGarrett. The only thing missing was beer. Though Steve had protested, his friends decided to wait until he could drink one with them. Soda and iced tea were the only drinks offered at this shindig.

Steve appeared happier than he had in the entire last year. Of course, it could have something to do with surviving aplastic anemia but Danny had long known that Steve loved Catherine more than life itself. And though the man had accepted that his woman won't leave him again, his best friend still had reservations about her commitment. "Time will tell _"_ , sighed Danny to no one before he took a sip of his diet Coke.

The medics had Ok'd Steve to return to work for half days and, even if it was only behind a desk, he reveled in being useful again. He even managed to keep from charging out the door with the rest of them when duty called. _That won't last long,_ thought Danny.

Steve did everything with his whole being. Once committed to something, he was all-in. There was no doubt or hesitation; be it storming a gunrunner's hideout, protecting the innocent, or taking back the woman who'd shattered his heart. If he didn't apply the same enthusiasm to filling out requisition forms, well, no one's perfect.

Jerry and Max, Sabrina joining in, were engaged in building the Taj Mahal of sand castles - Max protesting the addition of a satellite dish fashioned from the lid of a yogurt container, (Jerry's inspiration). Nearby, Lou and Chin were bickering over the best way to grill a steak while their wives rolled their eyes and laughed. Even Lori had managed to make it back to Hawaii for a few days new boyfriend in tow. He looked like a nice guy. Doctors Fanning and Shan were engaged in a noisy squabble at a table under the overhang of the lanai. Someone had compared their 'discussions' to those of Steve and his second-in-command. Danny couldn't see it.

Melissa, Mary and Kono sat in the sun as Kono dried her hair and Joan napped on a blanket under the shade of an umbrella. Tina and her boo sat on a bench nearby, making goo goo eyes at each other. They were of nearly the same large presence and made a cute couple. Even from afar, one could tell that Tina was definitely in charge of the relationship.

Out in the water, Steve, doing a lazy side stroke, gazed at Catherine swimming beside him. The two looked like dolphins gliding through the ocean.

Danny sighed and took another swig of his soda. It's good to have his friend back again.

…..

Yesterday had been wonderful. There'd been no official title for the party, but it was a celebration of Steve's survival.

She watched as he stood by the old wooden chair, drying himself off after his morning swim.

Things had changed so much in the last couple of months. She remembered when she'd gotten that call those many weeks ago. Standing under a gray sky, numb after hearing Lori Weston's words, she'd continued to stare at the blank screen of her phone after the call had ended. _Steve is dying? Steve can't die._ Even though they hadn't spoken in months she knew he was there. She'd call just to hear his voice but would hang up after he said hello; never replying. He'd been the one who was always there; an anchor point in her careening life. _How could he leave me?_ The irony that she'd left him wasn't lost on her but she'd hoped that, someday, somehow, she could go back and beg him to understand why she had to leave. She'd crawl to him if she had to. Steven McGarrett was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Continuing to silently observe, she could see that he's still a bit too thin but looking far better that he did when released from the hospital. Now that he'd been cleared to do so, he swam as often as possible. Until a few days ago, because of possible side-effects from the ongoing regimen of antibiotics, he'd only been able to swim during the very early hours or in the early evening when the sun's rays weren't an issue. But now, here he is in full sunlight and she thinks it's a beautiful sight.

The only negative to this beautiful moment is the sight of the news scars acquired when she'd been away. There were several. When they lay in bed together, she'd trace them with her fingertips but didn't ask their cause. She never did unless he chose to tell her. In their past, it had been silent acknowledgement of the dangers of his chosen profession.

From Danny, she'd learned a little of the history of these new marks. She suspects Steve's best friend was trying to make a point. Steve had been through a lot without her being there to provide support. Some of the harrowing situations he'd survived, (at least two of the thanks to the late Wo Fat), had resulted in injuries. Her feelings of guilt over not being here to help him through the aftermath had nearly overwhelmed her.

Danny had been successful in making her realize how much she had to make up for.

Water glistened on his lashes as he looked up and smiled at her; making her heart flutter for the thousandth time since she'd returned. That smile had sustained her when they'd been stationed apart; sometimes at nearly opposite ends of the planet. Later on, it had warmed her when sleeping on frigid ground in the Hindu Kush and on numbing days in Ukraine when winter winds blowing off the Black Sea would freeze the tears on her face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as she stood staring at him. He automatically glanced down to check if his boardies had slipped too far south – a danger these days considering he hadn't yet 'filled out' as Kamekona had put it. These days his large friend tries to talk him into ordering the super-sized version of his shrimp truck specials. He even offered a discount.

"No, everything's fine. Just admiring the view." she smiled back as her throat ached with suppressed emotion.

Worry creasing his brow, Steve tilted his head and frowned. "Why do you look like you want to cry?" he asked.

His heart had nearly frozen in his chest. Catherine rarely cried. It had always meant that something dreadful had happened: the death of a friend, the time he'd been badly wounded and had woken up in a hospital to find her beside him . . . later . . . when she'd left him.

"What's wrong? There must be something wrong." he said, alarmed at her silence.

Still without answering she stepped forward to wrap her arms around thinner but still strong shoulders. She closed her eyes and buried her head against his chest; hearing the strong thrum of a heart that never gave up despite nearly insurmountable challenges to its beating; the heart that never gave up waiting for her.

Pressed to her as the sun poured down, he could feel the vibration of waves slapping the sand before they drew back into the sea. He steeled himself for whatever her answer would convey. He'd be devastated if she left again but he knew he'd survive. His ohana would make sure of it.

"Steve," she barely managed to choke out around the lump in her throat, "I don't have the words to describe how happy I am that you're alive and I can be here with you".

He took a shuddering breath and buried his face in her hair.

"I'll never leave you." she breathed against his skin. "I'll be here with you as long as you want me. As long as there's breath in my body I'll be beside you. We're going to grow old together."

Feeling every ounce of doubt leaving him as they clung to one another, he knows now he needn't have worried - there's nothing wrong.

At this moment. In this world. Nothing could be more right.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Am taking a break after this one but will eventually be posting a story in the Cujo series. I think the cat from hell needs some exercise.**

 **Thank you all soo much for sticking with this. I would very much enjoy reading your final thoughts on this epic.**

 **Aloha.**


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